Surviving an Apocalypse
by Hmob1994
Summary: When Zombies attack, it's a bad idea to be alone. Luckily, Feliciano isn't.  GerIta, FrUK, RussAme, PruCan.
1. They Meet

**A note from ME! **I… I don't actually know where this came from… I just felt like doing something full of Horror and Blood, with a tinsy bit of GerIta and RussiaXAmerica and Prussia/Canada, and a LOT of FrUK… Yah FrUK!

But… yeah. I also think this is partly and excuse to give England and France an Epic introduction, because, let's face it, they are epic! XD

**Surviving an Apocalypse**

**Chapter 1 – They meet**

It had started with a gun shot.

Feliciano hadn't seen the gun, or the person shooting the gun, or what was being shot at. He was just there to look up from his painting when he heard the gun, and walk to his large window on the second floor balcony to see what was happening.

And then the moaning started. And the _screams_.

Everything on the streets below became a whirl of confusing mess, and Feliciano could only watch in horror as people were chased by other grotesque, limping people, _monsters_, caught, ripped limb from limb.

And then his brother called him, a hidden note of panic as he commanded him to get _out of_ the city, out of _America, _that Lovino would call him so keep his cell phone on him, but just get _out._

And so he did. Feliciano was fast, and could easily outrun the limping monstrosities that would rear their heads upon hearing his footfalls. And he kept running.

But Feliciano wasn't the smartest person alive. It was only a matter of time before, exhausted, hungry and dehydrated, he wandered into a situation he couldn't run from.

Cornered and scared, Feliciano shut his eyes for what he was sure would be the last time. He was gasping for breath, his heart pounding against his ribcage so hard it hurt, the moans flooding his ears as the undead crawled and limped towards him, drawn by his heavy breathing.

Then, the gun sounded. It was just like the gun which started it all, but this one rang over and over, from all directions, and each time it did, the moans became quieter as the undead started to scatter, unsure now where to target. Feliciano opened his eyes, and watched as the last Zombies were picked off, falling to the floor in such a horrifyingly exaggerated motion, it almost made Feliciano want to laugh.

That was when he met Ludwig and Gilbert. The two German brothers were heading towards the coast, and told him all the airplane stations had closed. It didn't take much persuading on their part to convince scared little Feli to join them. They were strong and tall and cool looking. They knew how to survive, and most importantly, they could handle guns. Feli started to grow stronger again, with access to food, water and safe places to sleep. Neither Ludwig nor Gilbert had any protests against breaking into a house, and as long as they were quiet, the undead didn't come after them. They started teaching the Italian how to hold a gun and shoot, to aim, and where to shoot an Undead for maximum effect. In return, Feli ensured their diet remained stable – he was quite the cook compared to the brothers, and, having spent the days till then surviving on cold or canned meals, the first morning they'd woken up to the delicious smell of _real_ cooked food, they could barely stop their mouths from watering in anticipation as they watched Feliciano patter around the 'borrowed' kitchen excitedly.

It was around this time they met Kiku and Yao. Feliciano, normally such a deep sleeper, was snapped out of his slumber by moaning, and shot to the window. Gilbert was woken as he was almost stepped on, while Ludwig, sitting on watch, put his finger on his lips as he cocked his gun, poised at the window next to Feli. The Italian's eyes widened as he saw the two men in the street, surrounded by those monsters. He implored with the older man to save them, to use the trick he and Gilbert had saved him with, but Ludwig frowned.

"We could only use that because Gilbert and I were in two separate buildings…" He said. "If we shot now, they'll just swarm us, and we won't stand a chance." Feliciano's eyes widened in horror.

"D- do you have a spare gun?" He asked after a few seconds, trembling. Ludwig blinked, but nodded, unhooking it from his pant pocket. Feliciano took it, and smiled up at the tall blonde.

"Cover me." He told him, and ran. Ludwig's eyes widened, and he whipped round.

"FELI!" He shouted, but the Italian ignored him, slamming through the front door. Gilbert cursed, grabbing his own gun.

"I'll go after him! You keep an eye on us from here!" He instructed, running after the smaller man. Ludwig turned to the window, opening it. The two men were starting to look tired, one holding a Japanese sword in hands slightly trembling from exhaustion, the other wielding a wok loosely. Ludwig didn't think twice about the strange choice of weapon – you used whatever you could find in this demonic wasteland.

"O- Oi!" Feliciano shouted, already on the other side of the mob, firing into the crowd of undead. They slowly turned their heads, and Feliciano cringed away from the blank eyes. Many of the faces had frozen into the expression they had sported before turning, and terrified faces of pain and anguish faced him. The gun in his hand started to slip. He couldn't shoot… they looked all too _real_… They didn't look inhumane. They looked scared…

The undead started to limp towards the frozen man, and Ludwig's eyes widened.

"HEY!" He shouted, firing. The undead paused, confused at the new noise as, several metres away, Gilbert joined in, expertly pinning one of the monsters. Feli's eyes widened as he remembered, and shot again. If with two sources of noise confused the undead, then three was just torture. Ludwig noticed out of the corner of his eyes the two Asian men, who seemed to understand, had run to a lamppost. With all his strength, the one with the Wok slammed his weapon against the lamppost with all his might, creating a loud echo that spread and bounced off of the walls. The undead were easy pickings from then on.

Ludwig sighed in relief as the last monster fell, putting his gun on the windowsill and closing the window. He waited as Feli and Gilbert beckoned the two men to the house, and stood with his arms crossed as they entered the room. Feli paused as Ludwig's gaze drilled into him, and he hung his head.

"S- Sorry, Ludwig…" He said, holding out the gun. Ludwig looked at it, before sighing.

"Keep it. You'll need it if you keep on doing idiotic stunts like that." Feli looked up at him, and beamed when the German gave him a small nod of approval.

Kiku and Yao were cousins. They were both graceful and polite, but while Kiku was stoic and serious at all times, showing very little emotion, underneath the graceful posture and refined looks, Yao was a bundle of excited energy and love for anything cute. Both could fight, and both helped Feli making the meals, adding more flavours to Feli's already wide knowledge of food. The atmosphere became more calm and serene as the five of them continued travelling towards the coast. Kiku was a mechanical expert, and so they found themselves with access to electric lights, TV's and Game Consoles which he expertly hooked up and rewired, connecting them to back up powers after the power stopped working.

While they were travelling, they picked up new people and revealed their stories. Feliciano had majored in Art, and his brother lived with his boyfriend back home in Italy. Gilbert and Ludwig were half brothers who had signed up to the army together in Germany for two years, but left when their mother died of cancer and moved to America, making their living fixing cars. Kiku and Yao had been living together for two years, and made soft toys and comic books which they sold online, as well as their respective, boring office jobs. They picked up the American twins Alfred and Matthew, one of whom was a sports student, the other a literature student, both with wicked aim with a gun. Alfred was brave and reckless, a perfect contrast to Matthew, who was more timid, but smart and logical. Ivan was the eighth to join their growing party. The Russian had a childish demeanour, but was terrifying with his height, muscles and merciless aura. He soon, however, became just as important as anyone else in the group. He had also arrived via an empty Military Base, and so carried a backpack full of weapons and, more importantly, ammo. And so they travelled. Food started to become scarce – there were more of them now, and the few houses which hadn't already been raided by survivors before them were locked, and breaking into them, thy discovered, created unacceptable amounts of noise. Ludwig was beginning to wonder if they would have to start rationing until _they _arrived in their group.

It had started innocently enough. Feli had seen an art store across the street of the house they were hiding out in, and started becoming edgy – it had been so long since he had drawn anything. Kiku had offered to accompany him, and that's how it started.

Next thing anyone knew, across the street was a crash, and a panicked shout, and everyone was shooting up and rushing to the window, staring in horror as Feli was cornered by the undead, the gun Ludwig had given him trembling in his hands, while across the street, Kiku was fighting the monsters. Ludwig's eyes widened and he grabbed his gun, streaking out of the door. He shot down several monsters surrounding Kiku, before leaving them for the others, running across the street to help the man he'd grown so protective of. He hadn't even taken two steps when Feli was grabbed, and Ludwig watched in horror as strong hands begun to dig into the Italian's shoulders, and an open mouth began to lower.

"FELICIANO!" He screamed.

Then, there was a flash of metal as one blade sliced through the hands holding Feli, and another was stabbed through the head of the Undead poised to devour their friend. Ludwig's eyes widened. Behind him, the others finished off the undead, and watched the two light footed figures, Kiku's eyes especially wide in admiration as, armed only with a sword each, the two men slaughtered every Undead surrounding the shaking Feliciano. As the last head fell, the two straightened. The blonde with a stubbled chin turned, and knelt next to Feli, who had allowed himself to fall to the floor, while the other man, with annoyed, piercing green eyes, and thick eyebrows, nodded at Ludwig.

"Nice to meet you." He greeted, and sheathed his sword, adjusting a heavy looking satchel slung across his shoulders. "My name is Arthur Kirkland."

**A note from ME! **W00T! France and England to save the DAAY!

So yeah, these are the G8 members obviously. And China, because China's cute. And Prussia. Just because.

Yeah… XD


	2. They Argue

**A note from ME!**Yayies, next chappie! I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter.

Thank you for the reviews! There's a couple of things I picked out which I wanted to explain briefly. First of all, the Zombies. I did have an explanation o them, but I wasn't sure whether or not I'd put it in. I think I probably will now, but later on.

Second, the details to everyone meeting, primarily Alfred, Matthew and Ivan. That's actually going to be revealed later on, and I'm hoping it will answer some questions through the story…

There's more character development in this chapter – you find out more about the others goals, and Arthur and Francis. Arthur and Francis go _waaaay_ back. XD

**Chapter 2 – They argue**

Arthur, it turned out, was exceedingly – disturbingly – talented at cracking locks, and so that night the group of eight moved from the house they had been using to a house stocked with food, and a fridge that still worked, running on a generator. The other man – Francis – searched the other rooms, and soon came back with a key, which he used to lock the door again. Arthur dropped his satchel on the floor, laid his sword next to it, and moved to slump on the sofa. He spent the next half hour talking to the other survivors as Francis fed and washed a shell-shocked Feliciano. After he heard their story and situation, Arthur looked at Ludwig.

"And you're the leader?" He asked. Ludwig choked on the cold beer he was happily downing, before putting it on the coffee table, clearing his throat.

"I'm not sure you would call me the leader type…" He muttered, embarrassed. "Besides, we don't have one." Arthur frowned.

"I disagree. You were the first to act when you saw your friends in danger, and the last to come into the house. The moment you were in, you checked every window and door, made sure the house was safe to stay in and arranged jobs for everyone to secure your position here." Ludwig felt his ears' burning as the list was read off. "From what I've seen, you're confident, smart, and strong, you look out for others, and every one of your group looks up to you." Arthur crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in the sofa. "Besides, a group of this sort without a leader falls into anarchy, no matter how big. You find conflicting interests, and with no higher word to decide what you'll do, the group will split to satisfy these interests."

"Mr Arthur's right, Ludwig." A quiet voice called from the door, and everyone looked around. "You're a great leader." Ludwig sighed in relief as he saw Feliciano, Francis standing behind him. He still looked slightly shaken, but sported a small reassuring smile as everyone else ran to him, making sure he was alright. Kiku apologised for walking ahead and not thinking to stay by his side, at which Feli shook his head, reassuring Kiku that it was his own fault, and he should have kept a tighter hold of the art supplies. Ludwig frowned. So now he knew what the crash was… but he had heard the crash literally seconds before he got to the window. So, how did the zombies suddenly flood him?

"They're getting faster…" He realised, his eyes widening. Arthur scowled.

"I bloody well hope not…" He muttered. "But I suppose it's to be expected. They are getting used to being 'alive', so to speak… they're not too different from toddlers. Giant, strong, terrifying toddlers…"

"Um… Mr Arthur?" Feliciano called, extracting himself from his friends. "I've already said this to Francis, but thank you for saving me." Arthur's scowl darkened as he stood up.

"You put yourself and your friends in danger." He said. "The weak won't survive long here. You need to toughen up; next time you're in such a pitiful situation, it won't be my problem." The room grew silent as Arthur left to explore. The original group had grown fond of Feliciano – If Ludwig was the leader, then Feli was the mascot, always there with a bright smile on his face, pattering round and cooking, or dragging the others into a game to relieve the stress of living in a world plagued by zombies. Behind them, Francis brought his hand to his face, shaking his head, before giving the group an apologetic smile and following his friend.

"You really know how to make friends, Arthur." He sighed when he caught up with him. Arthur shrugged, looking into a cupboard.

"I don't need friends. I just need to survive." He said, closing the cupboard door with a frown, before moving into a room to examine the contents. Francis followed, smirking.

"'I don't need friend's', Hmm?" He quoted. "Where have I heard _that_ one before…" Arthur rolled his eyes, knowing a lecture on the importance of _'L'amour' _was coming. "Oh, that's right. There was the time you said that to me when you went to Primary School. And Secondary. And College. And when you moved to America. And who's still here with you?" Francis asked, his smirk growing. Arthur growled.

"You don't count." He said. "You just follow me around everywhere." Francis smiled fondly at the Briton, and ruffled his already messy hair.

"So you say, _mon petit Lapin_, so you say." He wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulders as the blonde was inspecting a snow globe, tugging him into his chest, before placing a kiss on his for head. Arthur blushed, and tugged away, looking anywhere but Francis.

"D- Don't call me a rabbit." He muttered, replacing the snow globe. Francis smiled as he stalked away.

"Ah, Arthur…" He muttered. "Whatever happened to that innocent child who tried so hard to impress?"

Ludwig sat on the wide windowsill, a gun resting in his lap, and watched the streets, his eyes focused on the undead, their limping forms lit up in eerie white detail by the moon above. He glanced up as Francis sat down next to him, cradling a glass of wine, and offering the German a bottle of beer, which he took gratefully. Francis sipped at the wine.

"She is beautiful, _non_?" He asked, staring at the moon. Surprised, Ludwig looked up as well.

"I… I suppose so." He said, taking a swig of beer. "It's always just been a rock to me, though." Francis chuckled as Ludwig glanced around at the faces of their sleeping companions.

"I suppose you two will be travelling with us now…" He said, frowning. Getting eight people through the country was hard enough… two more just made it that little bit harder. Francis smiled gently.

"I suppose so. I'm glad." He said. Ludwig glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"Really? Doesn't it make it more dangerous for you?" He asked. Francis nodded.

"Oui, but I'm not bothered by that. I'm just glad to know Arthur will be with people other then just me." He laughed. "Although I can get a little bit possessive of _mon Cheri_, so hopefully he doesn't get _too _close to anyone…" Ludwig ran his eye over the English blonde, who was curled up in a tight ball on one end of the sofa.

"Huh… he doesn't look so much like a bastard when he's asleep, does he?" Francis nodded, and took another refined sip of wine. Ludwig turned back to him.

"Have you known each other for long?" He asked. Francis smiled.

"We've been friends since he was five." He replied. "He never did make many friends, not even when he was younger… his brothers were horrible to him, so he ran to me. He used to be so lonely though, at school…" He looked back up at Ludwig. "I'm three years older then him, you see." Ludwig nodded in understanding, but both paused as Arthur murmured in his sleep, moving his head deeper into the sofa cushion. Francis's smile faded, but the fond twinkle in his eye never let.

"A few years ago, he decided to move here from England. He wanted to escape his family, and so came to University in America. A couple of months later, I got an apprenticeship here and flew out." He laughed. "The look on his face was priceless…" Ludwig's gaze fixed itself on the Frenchman as he steeled himself to ask the question that had been bugging him since they met the two blondes.

"Do you love him?" Francis met his gaze, before smiling.

"_Oui_. But Arthur is a man who likes to argue – as long as I am the only one he's arguing with, I'm happy." Ludwig didn't push the subject, and looked out of the window again, readjusting his gun on his lap. Francis soon followed suit.

In the darkness, neither noticed the bright, almost glowing shade of red Arthur's face was, as he fought to quell the inconceivable, inexplicable joy at those simple words.

Preparing to leave the next day was a stiff, uneasy affair. None of the original group had taken to Arthur, who wouldn't even change in the same room as them. Francis, on the other hand, was a different story. He was charming and funny, and apologised deeply for Arthur's words the day before. The only one, it seemed, that wasn't affected, was Feliciano, who was pottering around the kitchen as everyone woke up, and even asked the Englishman what he wanted for breakfast, a large smile gracing his features. Of course, Arthur seemed to fail to realise the death glares Gilbert was sending him, or the murderous aura surrounding the smiling Ivan. Either that or he didn't care. He sat at the table in the kitchen as he waited for everyone to finish getting ready, his large satchel sitting next to his chair as he took a sip of Earl Grey and watched Feli prepare everyone's breakfast, a frown bringing together thick eyebrows.

Everyone's annoyance at Arthur, however, was put on hold temporarily as their attention was drawn to a more pressing matter.

"Alfred! Ivan!" Ludwig snapped standing up and slamming his hands on the table during breakfast. His eyes were blazing with an as yet unseen anger as he observed the two in question in fury. The two men turned from each other as Ludwig started to speak, his voice low and dangerous.

"We do _not_ bring each others family into this." He growled. Alfred flinched. "It is stupid, and immature. Do you two think this is some way of getting at each other? Do you realize how many people have died because of this damn… whatever it is?" Ivan's gaze dropped slightly. "Right now, we have to look out for each other. _All _of us." Everyone noticed the blonde's eyes flicker to Arthur, but said nothing. "Do you both understand?" Ivan and Alfred nodded, and mumbled their apologies to each other. Ludwig sighed as he sat down. If it wasn't bad enough with Arthur, now Alfred had to bring up Ivan's missing sisters? Of _course _a brother would try to protect his siblings, but with no way of contacting them, and no knowledge where they might be, did it never occur to the American that bringing them up was just rubbing unnecessary salt into the wound?

And didn't Ivan realise bringing up Alfred's own, undead parents affected, not just the loudmouthed self proclaimed hero, but Matthew too? Ludwig glanced at said boy from the corner of his eyes. He was talking to an animated Gilbert, trying his best to fix a natural smile on his face. He wasn't succeeding. Ludwig sighed.

"God help us if this keeps up…" He mumbled under his breath, and started to eat breakfast.

**A note from ME! **Yes, Arthur is a jerk. A very big jerk. He'll get better! Maybe… XD But yeah… Alfred and Ivan have issues.


	3. They Forgive

**A note from ME! **Nihao! Next chappie! There is a lot more angst then last chapter, I'm afraid. I was gonna stop it half way through, but I decided not to be that mean… XD

**Chapter 3 – They forgive**

Feliciano gave a sigh as he put down his heavy bag, and smiled at his worried friends reassuringly. As they had left the house, they – or Ludwig – had decided that in order to assure their security, they would take with them as much food as they could carry. This turned out to be quite a lot, with the monsters that were Ivan and Alfred travelling with them. Even carrying the bag of weapons Ivan managed to carry another two filled with canned food with ease, while Alfred, not to be outdone, followed with a further four bags. At several points, the group noticed Feliciano starting to lag – he was an artist, not a heavy lifter, after all – but when any of them offered to help he would refuse, sending them a happy grin.

Ludwig frowned as he noticed this. It looked like Arthur's words had really hit the Italian where it mattered. The German was glad he was trying to work harder, but at the same time… it was worrying. Every time Feli lagged behind, it alerted Ludwig to the danger facing the shorter man if he was ever left behind.

"He's the mage." Ludwig's head shot round, and he looked at Alfred, who was sitting on the garden wall next to him as Arthur started picking the lock of the house they'd chosen. Alfred smiled at the older mans confused face. "Feliciano. Arthur's wrong, I think. Not everyone can be physically strong, or brave." Seeing this didn't clear anything up for Ludwig, he continued.

"It's like RPG games!" He said. "The best group will have a variety of players. There's the tank, which draws all the heavy fire, and is the strongest, there's long-distance fighters, there's close fighters, and there's the mage who heals everybody!" Ludwig raised an eyebrow as Alfred started gesturing.

"Me and Ivan are the Tanks. You, Gilbert and Matthew are long-distance fighters. Yao, Kiku, Francis and Arthur are the close fighters, and Feli's the mage! Except Feli doesn't heal us… he only cooks our food…" He trailed off, watching Feliciano as he talked to Kiku, making the extravagant hand gestures that always accompanied his speech. Ludwig smiled. Alfred was more right then he thought. The preppy Italian may not physically heal them but emotionally, when they were tired and scared, Feliciano was there with his contagious smile and bubbly personality to make them feel better.

"I've done it." Arthur said, standing up as the door swung open.

The next few seconds seemed to stretch out for the others. One of the undead slammed out of the house, teeth bared. Its face had started to come away from the bones, rotting, or maybe it tore its own skin off. Arthur's eyes widened as the zombie went straight for his throat, and reached for his sword, his hand moving too slowly.

"ARTHUR!" Francis barrelled into his younger friend, shoving him onto the floor in a sprawling head. Arthur's head shot up, and he stared in horror as the undead sunk its teeth into Francis's shoulder, and the blonde let out a guttural cry of pain. There was a shotgun, and the monster staggered back, its teeth wrenched from Francis's shoulder as its head snapped back. Feliciano felt his hands shake as he slowly lowered his gun, staring at the Zombie he'd shot.

"F- Francis!" Arthur's panicked cry broke Feli out of his reverie, and he looked around as Arthur caught Francis, saving him from falling. He was suddenly very pale, his breath shallow.

"He's been infected!" Yao exclaimed. Arthur growled at him, and tugged Francis to his feet, trying to support the taller body. He swore, and Ivan stepped forward, lifting the Frenchman up easily, bridal style. The smaller man flopped in his arms, his head rolling back as he drew in a ragged breath.

"It's too late, da?" He told the wide-eyed Arthur. The sandy-haired man stared up at him, and Ivan felt an unexpected pang in his heart at the pure terror in Arthur's eyes, the very thought of loosing Francis too much to bear.

"N- no!" He said. "T- there's time… I can help…" He looked around. "My satchel…" Feli picked it up from where it had fallen with Arthur.

"I've got it." He said. "Let's take him inside." Arthur nodded shakily.

Feliciano had been surprised by the weight of the bag, but hadn't said anything as the group walked into the house, Yao and Kiku taking the front, weapons raised warily in case there were more of the undead. Ivan laid Francis on the kitchen worktop where Arthur shakily instructed him to.

"Feliciano, can you start washing out the bite?" He asked, taking the satchel and putting it on the table. Feli nodded, walking to the sink and running the water as he undid Francis's shirt to expose the weeping wound. Arthur opened his bag, revealing piles of old looking books, the covers unmarked. Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"_This_ is what you were lugging around all this time?" He asked. Arthur nodded, picking out a black tome.

"I couldn't leave them behind…" He answered, flipping through it. "Here…" Gilbert and Alfred leant over his shoulder to read, but was met with unfamiliar words.

"It's in Latin." Arthur explained, tracing the words with his finger.

"You can read Latin?" Matthew asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who exactly _are_ you two?" Arthur shushed him, reaching a complicated circle, and nodded.

"Right. I need something to draw with – chalk or something…" Feliciano looked up.

"I've got some charcoal with my art stuff." He said. "Will that do?" Arthur nodded and hurried to the bags Alfred and Ludwig had brought in, searching through them until he claimed the charcoal. He looked at the others.

"This is complicated." He said. "So you'll have to be quiet while I work." The group watched in confusion as he knelt, starting to sketch lines across the floor, creating a large, complicated circle. Whenever one of them moved, or drew breath to speak, he'd shush them impatiently. Eventually he was tip-toeing his way through lines, sweeps and words, moving to start on the outside of the circle.

"How long has it been since he was bitten?" He asked, glancing at the book for reference. Ludwig looked at his watch.

"About twenty minutes…" He told Arthur, who's mouth tightened to a thin line.

"I don't have much time left…" He whispered. "If I don't make this within the next ten minutes, there might be no turning back…" He sped up his writing, crawling around the circle.

"There!" He stood up, ignoring the charcoal marks littering his clothes. "Quickly! We don't have much time! Put him in the circle!" Ludwig checked his watch again as Ivan lifted Francis, softly depositing his body within the circle.

"Five minutes." He said, and Arthur swore, rustling through the drawers in the kitchen.

"Candles, candles… Candles!" He scooped up a packet of tea lights, tossing them to Ivan. "Place those in a pentagram around him and light them." Not checking to see if he was being obeyed, Arthur grabbed a bowl, running the water from the tap before hurrying over, placing it next to Francis, who was now deathly pale, and had started to twitch, beads of sweat running down his face.

"Feli, I'll need your help!" Arthur called, stripping his top off. "I need paint, any colour, and two paintbrushes!" Feliciano hurried to grab the requested items, and soon returned. Arthur pointed to a separate circle in the book.

"I need you to paint that on the base of my neck and the small of my back." He said, taking a paintbrush and dipping it in the paint as he knelt down, and carefully started to paint on Francis's exposed chest.

"This requires the caster to bond with the target." He told the Italian as they worked. "The entire spell depends on the strength of my feelings and the bonds between us. That's why I need to be marked as well." Ludwig looked at his watch.

"Two minutes!"

"Done!" Feli said, putting down the paintbrush. Arthur nodded, straightening as he finished Francis's chest.

"You guys might want to get out." He said. "This won't be pretty…"

Two minutes later, the kitchen door opened. Everyone stood, looking at the door expectantly.

"A- Arthur!" Alfred grabbed the man as he collapsed, the still wet green paint smearing onto his clothes.

"I- It's done." The blonde said, panting hard. "He's safe…" Arthur smiled as he closed his eyes, listening to the relieved sighs around him. He heard voices softly babbling around him. He heard Matthew talking to Gilbert with relief evidence in his voice, and Ivan offer to take Arthur from a grateful Alfred. He heard Feli chattering quietly to Ludwig, the occasional 'Hmm' earned. He smiled. Maybe he could get used to a group so full of life and love…

**A note from ME! **WOOOO! Go Feli! XD, yeah, this is the chapter where Feli redeems himself in Arthur's eyes. And yeah, Arthur knows magic. And Latin. Go figure. XD


	4. They Love

**A note from ME! **La hi ho! Next chappie! I loved writing this one, I really did. In fact, I loved it so much I ended up writing six pages instead of my normal four… XD

And don't worry! I'm reading all your reviews and putting each question to account! Every question will be answered throughout the duration of this story! (But keep sending the questions anyway, to make sure I don't miss anything.)

**Chapter 4 – They love**

Francis opened his eyes, slowly at first, but then letting them shoot open as he sat up, the bed covers he was wrapped up in falling off of his bare chest.

"I'm… I'm still alive…" He whispered, looking around the room in incredulous amazement, before turning his gaze to the figure lying peacefully in the double bed next to him. He smiled softly.

"I see. So you saved me…" Arthur carried the same exhausted look Francis had seen him with time and time again, after he had pushed his magical limits that bit too far. Francis smiled gently, lying back down. Glancing at the shut door, he carefully slid an arm out and around Arthur's waist, dragging him closer until bare chest met bare chest. He sighed happily, burying his nose in Arthur's hair before drifting back into sleep, not noticing Arthur's face glowing with a vibrant red blush.

The smaller boy shifted uncomfortably, but felt no indication that Francis was going to let go anytime soon, and looked around. Seeing the room was empty, he let himself relax into the protective grip, looking pointedly away from the Frenchman's bare chest.

It was a couple of hours later when Arthur and Francis finally walked into the kitchen, which instantly went quiet. Francis had slipped on his blue shirt, the tattered sleeve now hiding the bite-mark on his shoulder. Feliciano turned away from the stove, and beamed when he saw them.

"You're awake!" He greeted happily, adjusting the bubbling pots and turning down the heat. "Sit down! I'm making lunch now." Arthur blinked as Feli shooed them to the table, smiling happily.

"Lunch?" He asked. "How long were we asleep?" Ludwig snorted as he turned the page of a book.

"Well, it's one o'clock now." He pointed out. Arthur frowned.

"Why didn't you wake us up? You wasted a half a day's travel just because-"

"Because you and Francis would have only been a liability when you were half asleep." Ludwig cut over him. "Besides, it wasn't completely wasted. Kiku managed to connect us to the internet." Arthur looked at the small Japanese man in admiration.

"Really?" He asked. "That's brilliant." Gilbert grinned as he slapped an embarrassed Kiku on the back.

"Yeah! And me and Lud managed to fix and hotwire a land rover from outside!" He added. Ludwig shrugged.

"It'll be a tight squeeze, but it's more efficient then walking." Ivan smiled that slightly creepy, childish smile.

"Me and Alfred kept the Zombies back for them." He said, and Arthur raised a thick eyebrow at the pipe the taller man was holding, dripping slightly with a thick red liquid. He shuddered, and offered a weak smile.

"Me, Feli and Matt stayed to look after you two." Yao said, sipping from a cup of green tea. Francis smiled.

"Thank you." He said softly, before clearing his throat. Arthur frowned.

"Don't push yourself to do anything." He instructed his friend. "When you were turning your throat will have started to close up, so don't speak too much, and only eat soft foods like soup. You shouldn't move around much either, you're hearts trying to get used to pumping blood round again." Francis smiled fondly at him, before ruffling his hair. Arthur scowled, before his eyes narrowed as Francis flinched when he moved his arm back.

"Does the bite hurt?" He asked, standing up and pulling the Frenchman's shirt aside to inspect the puckered wound. Watching Arthur fuss, carefully tying bandages around Francis's shoulder, Feliciano smiled. Arthur seemed a lot more honest then he had when he first met them. Noticing Feli watching them, Arthur stood up.

"F- Feli, can I talk to you?" He asked. "I mean, alone…" Feli nodded, smiling.

"Sure! Um, Yao? Can you look after the food?" Yao nodded, unfolding gracefully from his seat, and Feli left the room with Arthur. Ludwig looked up from his book as, the moment the door closed, everyone save him, Ivan and Kiku were pressed against the door, trying to listen in.

"I mean, I was a jerk, and it was unwarranted. I'm sorry." Arthur said beyond the door. "And… Thanks. For saving Francis. It's… I appreciate it." Francis's eyes lit up at the mention of his name, and pressed closer to the door. Feliciano giggled.

"That's okay! I didn't want big brother Francis to die either! But… you really like him, don't you!" Francis was almost glued to the door at this point, and Ludwig raised an eyebrow. Arthur spluttered.

"Ah, I- That is, I don't, I never-" He was interrupted by Feliciano.

"It's okay! I really like Ludwig, so we can like them together!" The group peeled themselves off the door, turning to look at Ludwig, who watched them in confusion. Francis smirked, but returned to the door just in time to hear Arthur tentatively say "… Yeah. I do." Francis let a smile grace his face, beaming at the door. "It's… He's always been there, you know?" There was a thud, and something scrapped against the door. Arthur was obviously sitting on the floor. "More then my brothers and Dad ever were. My mum died when I was born, and my dad pretty much let me bring myself up beyond the toddler stage. Francis and his parents were more like family then mine ever were. They paid for my sword lessons, you know." There was a sigh, and a low chuckle. "His parents were kinda loaded. Francis never left me alone, not even when I moved to America. It's… If I lost him, I don't know what I'd do…" He trailed off. "Well, that's enough. The point is, thank you. Come on, let's go back." The door opened, letting the group plastered against it fall. Francis managed to save himself, but before Arthur could blow up at them, the Frenchman had gripped his chin and pulled him into a deep kiss. Arthur's eyes widened, and his face turned crimson as he blushed. Francis smirked as he pulled away.

"J'taime." He whispered, before frowning as Arthur didn't react. Slowly, the Briton pulled away, turning and walking away in a daze. Ludwig frowned.

"Will… he be okay?" He asked. Francis nodded.

"Yeah, just let him burn out, he'll be fine." Feli giggled, before his eyes widened.

"Yao! You let the soup boil over!" Rushing to the hob, Feliciano swatted Francis away, insisting he listened to Arthur and rest, and set to rescuing lunch as Yao apologised profusely.

Ludwig smiled fondly as he drunk from his mug, a look Francis noticed as he sat down at the table. The Frenchman smirked and leant in.

"Mon ami, I'm sure if you ask Feliciano, he'll happily go out with you…" Francis watched in amusement as Ludwig choked, spewing his drink over the table, and Feliciano glanced around, concerned. Ludwig waved to him in reassurance, before hissing at Francis.

"What? Where the hell did that come from?" Francis smirked as he leant back, satisfied that the seed had been planted, before looking around. It was interesting, he noted, that despite the danger they were in, there was so much romance dancing around. Himself and Arthur, for one, who had skittered precariously around the subject since Arthur had started college. Ludwig and Feliciano, as well. They had only met two weeks ago, but they fit together perfectly, and made quite the blissful scene. Matt and Gilbert were getting along brilliantly, with Matthews endurance to loud, self-confident, strong men and Gilberts love of everything cute and adorable – and, let's face it, you didn't get much more adorable then Matthew, with his silky blonde hair and large, innocent blue eyes. Gilbert had grown a bit protective of the teenager, teaching him how to use not only his preferred shotgun, but pistols, machine guns, rifles, snipe guns and more, and in return, Matthew made piles of pancakes, sharing them along with his beloved Maple syrup with the Albino. They didn't need any meddling – Gilbert's stomach would push him to asking Matthew out eventually.

However… Francis turned his attention to the two sitting on the sofa. Alfred scowled sullenly at one end, his arms crossed as he looked pointedly away from Ivan on the other end, his usual smile particularly sadistic today.

_Those _two weren't going to get anywhere by themselves. Francis smirked.

"Hey, Ivan." He called. The Russian looked up at him, and Francis jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"I'm gonna go out back to see if there's anything we can salvage from the garden. Will you come watch my back?" Ludwig's frowned as Francis started to stand.

"Arthur told you not to exert yourself." He pointed out. Francis waved his words away with a grin.

"That's why I'm bringing Ivan with me." He pointed out as Ivan rose from the Sofa, following the smaller man out of the room.

"You are doing okay, da?" He asked as they walked. Francis smiled.

"Yeah-" Francis paused as coughs racked through his body, shaking his shoulders and driving him to lean against the wall for support. Ivan took a step forward, but Francis stopped coughing before he could reach him. The Frenchman smiled at him weakly. "I- I'm sure Arthur's just being paranoid." Ivan raised an eyebrow as Francis started to walk again, his legs shaking slightly.

Ivan withdrew the pipe he'd been carrying since morning as they left the house, his hand reaching into his jean pocket for his pistol. Francis blinked at the state of the jeans.

"Oh yeah… our clothes are a state…" He commented, looking at his own clothes. The legs of his trousers were in tattered at the end, the bottom and arms of his shirt was ripped and stained with blood that wouldn't come out no matter how many times it was put through a washing machine, and the left shoulder and collar was ripped where the undead had bitten him the day before. Ivan glanced in surprise at his own baggy shirt and pants, noting their own tears, cuts and stains, in particular a rather suspicious grey patch on the side of his shirt. His scarf and large, heavy coat were fine, since he'd take them off when he had to fight. Francis smiled.

"Come on, let's try and get into some of the other houses. Maybe one of them will have clothes in your size." Ivan blinked at him.

"I thought we were looking in the garden, da?" He asked. Francis turned his nose up.

"The thought of having a chance to find new clothes and turning it down is terrifying." He told the larger man. "Now come on!"

Francis nodded, humming in appreciation as he forced a bemused Ivan to turn for him. He put his hands on the broad shoulders, noting just how _good_ he was at choosing clothes. Not everyone could pull off the tight t-shirt look, but it made a vast improvement on Ivan then his old baggy shirt. You could now see that, instead of fat, all of Ivan's vast bulk was pure muscle. Hell, even his back had a six pack. Now, if only he could find a way to persuade Ivan to keep out of his coat...

"I do not see the point in this." Ivan complained, not seeming to notice Francis's hands on his back. "I will only get them ripped again, da?" He blinked as he felt a soar of slightly terrifying aura waving in behind him, and looked over his shoulder to see Francis glowering at him.

"Non. _Not_ da." Francis took a step back, and looked into the wardrobe they had 'borrowed' the clothes from. Maybe they should take a few more shirts and jeans, just in case...

"… cis?" Francis blinked, and looked around at Ivan, a questioning look in his eyes.

"I said, now we have to find clothes for the others." Francis nodded, turning away from the wardrobe – extra clothes would take up precious room that could be used for weapons, food or water.

"Yeah… Let's head back so I can dress everyone individually."

As the two men left the house, Francis remembered his original goal, and looked at Ivan out of the corner of his eye. The taller man had, once again, claimed his pipe and pistol, and Francis hesitated in fear of his health before continuing.

"Ivan? What are your feelings on Alfred?" The Russian's face darkened, and France almost backed down there and then.

"He's immature and foolhardy." Ivan replied. "He doesn't realize the difference between a joke and an insult, and he's idiotic, gluttonous and arrogant." Francis winced for his American friend. This might be harder then he originally thought…

"But…" Francis looked up as Ivan continued. "He's innocent, and naïve. He puts other people before himself, and he's always trying to protect us and be the 'hero'." A soft smile unlike any Francis had seen before on Ivan graced his face. "When you see him being so selfless, you can't help but want to protect him. He's a little cute, da?" Francis smiled.

"Oui."

Alfred was the second last to be fitted, as Francis wanted to spend his time fitting Arthur. The good-looking American was surprisingly flippant about what he wore, and willingly gave a delighted Francis free reign. He was surprised when he was presented with Jeans and a T-shirt, but slipped them on. Francis nodded, beaming.

Despite the pure amount of food he consumed – particularly hamburgers, though god knows where he got them from – Alfred was toned. Not quite as muscular as Ivan or Ludwig, but still pretty built, and Francis instantly deemed him the perfect model. Now for the hard part…

"What do you think about Ivan?" Francis asked as he rooted through the drawers and pulled out a shirt and trousers for himself. Alfred scowled.

"He's stubborn and annoying and creepy." He announced. Francis rolled his eyes as he started buttoning his shirt, careful of the bandages that Arthur had applied that morning. Creepy, sure, but none of them had noticed anything particularly annoying or stubborn about him.

"Are you sure? Or is it just because he's Russian, Monsieur American Hero?" Alfred frowned. He didn't think he was being prejudiced…

"Can you name anything you like about him?" Francis pushed, undoing his trousers.

"Um… well, he's kinda funny, I guess…" Alfred started, before his eyes lit up. "Oh, and super strong! He can send a zombie flying ten feet with that pipe he's got now! And he's really childish sometimes, so he'll look at you with these wide eyes after he's said something you don't like as if he didn't even realise he said it! And he's really smart as well! And it's fun to argue with him! And he really cares about his family! And, and…" Alfred trailed off. "And… he's _really_ childish…" Francis did up the new pair of trousers, looking over his shoulders.

"Mon ami, you already said that." He pointed out. Alfred shook his head.

"No, like _really_ childish… Sometimes when we're fighting zombies, he'll have this look of despair, as if every last hope he had for humanity was just crushed… I really… whenever I see it, I just want to protect him, you know?" Francis smiled kindly, slipping his shoes back on.

"I know, Alfred. I know."

It had been a struggle to first find Arthur, and then convince him to come out to get changed. His primary argument was "You already know my clothes size" coupled with "You shouldn't be walking around the streets anyway" and "The less we go outside, the less risk there is to us", but eventually Francis managed to drag him out.

"Wait, you seriously think… Alfred and _Ivan_?" Arthur asked as he and Francis rummaged through the drawers. Francis nodded.

"Oui! They are a perfect match, believe it or not. They don't have to hold back with each other." Arthur raised an eyebrow and snorted.

"Whatever you say, frog." Francis held a brown waistcoat up against the smaller man's back as he frowned.

"But I didn't drag you out to talk about them." He commented airily, draping the waistcoat over the edge of the bed. "I wanted to talk about _us_..." Arthur paused in his search.

"I- th- there is no us." He said lightly, not turning to face Francis. The blonde smirked as he walked up behind Arthur and slipped two arms around his waist, holding him back against Francis's waist.

"Arthur, you insult me." He whispered into his friend's ear, smirking as it sent shivers rocketing down his spine. "I'll say it as many times as you need to here it… J'taime." Arthur blushed so hard Francis could almost feel the waves of heat wafting off of him as he repeated himself over and over, punctuating his sentences with small kisses to his shoulder, his ear, his cheek, his neck…

"A- alright!" Arthur snapped, trying to jerk away. Francis tightened his grip, tugging him around to stand face to face.

"Non. Not until you say it too." Arthur's scarlet face contrasted nicely with his green eyes, Francis noted, as he lowered his arms to circle the Englishman's hips.

"W- what! I- I can't-" Arthur squeaked as one elegant hand slipped down to rest on his butt. Francis smirked.

"You're such a prude, _lapin_." He chuckled, before taking a step forwards. Arthur took an automatic step back for every advance, and it wasn't long before his back hit the wall behind him. Francis smirked at the sudden stricken look that fleeted through the fierce green eyes, and lowered his head to hover mere inches away from the other man's face.

"Say it." He commanded.

"N- no."

Francis slid slightly closer. "Say it."

"I- I, no, I"

Now only an inch away. "_Say it_."

"I don't think I-"

A couple of centimetres.

"F- Francis, I…"

Arthur's lips were soft, and Francis slid his eyed shut, keeping the kiss slow at first. When the blushing Arthur slowly brought his arms up to rest on his shoulders, Francis started deepening the kiss, encouraging Arthur to join in. The tip of his tongue swiped gently across Arthur's mouth, which hesitantly opened, as if unsure how to act. Francis sparked Arthur's tongue into action, ghosting across it with his own and encouraging it away from its safe haven, moaning in appreciation as the smaller man started to react.

When Arthur's eyes shot open, and he started to try to pull away, Francis let him with a regretful sigh.

"F- Francis… I… I…" Arthur lowered his eyes as he struggled to speak, and Francis realized with a gentle smile what the problem was. It wasn't that Arthur wouldn't say he loved Francis, he just physically couldn't. Francis straightened and ruffled his friends hair, laughing.

"It's fine, Arthur." Arthur looked up at the taller mans words. "You don't need to push yourself."

"D- don't touch my hair, frog bastard…" Arthur muttered, looking away again. Francis smiled, taking away his hand.

"Come on. Let's-" Arthur's eyes widened as Francis doubled over, coughing violently.

"Francis!"

**A note from ME! **W00t! Things are starting to spice up within the group! But, Like all good authors, I have to make you hate me before love me. So there. :P

One thing you might have noticed was the lack of questioning about Arthur's magic there was. However, there's actually a reason for that. You see, each chapter gravitates slightly towards one persons view. The first chapter I tried to keep distanced, the second was Ludwig, the third was Arthur and this one was Francis. Of course, Francis already knows about Arthur's magic, so he's not going to question it. Don't worry, I will include some stuff about it next chapter…

See you later!


	5. They Discover

**A note from ME! **Here you go, guys…

Can I just say, writing this chapter was depressing. I had to write it, though – it's a major plot developer.

*Sniffles*

**Chapter 5 – They discover**

Matthew watched, concerned, as Alfred lay Francis gently on the sofa. The others grouped together, talking about their next course of action. They couldn't afford to spend much more time in one place, but at the same time, if Francis's 'condition' kept up it would be dangerous to move on.

Sitting at the table, Arthur ignored them, leafing through his books, his scowl deepening with every page. Matthew bit his lip as he moved across the room to sit opposite the Englishman.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly. Arthur looked up in surprise – he obviously hadn't heard him sit down – before returning to the book.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He muttered gruffly. "Why wouldn't I be fine?" Matthew licked his lips in an attempt to moisten them. Arthur was very obviously _not_ fine, but, knowing his temper, he didn't want to push the older man.

"Um… That thing… before, when you saved Francis… what was it?" Matthew asked hesitantly. Arthur sighed, before shutting his book and looking up.

"It was magic." Matthew chuckled nervously, not sure whether or not Arthur was joking around.

"M- Magic doesn't exist." Matthew replied. Something glinted in Arthur's eye, and the blonde leant forwards.

"Oh really? Does that mean you're willing to accept the existence of Zombies, but not of magic?" Before Matthew could consider his answer, the chair next to him was pulled out, and Gilbert flopped down into it.

"I want to know as well." He said. "So, what is this magic and stuff?" Arthur narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair, and Matthew had the sudden feeling that Arthur didn't talk about this often – maybe not even to Francis…

"What do you want me to tell you?" Arthur asked. Gilbert frowned.

"Everything." He answered. Arthur hummed, and leant back.

"Well… As far as we know, Magic was first looked into – properly looked into – by Nicholas Flamel, a scribe who is rumoured to have been able to use Alchemy to-"

"-Create the Philosophers stone." Alfred finished, walking to the table to join in the story. He blinked as Matthew trained a surprised gaze on his brother. "It was in Harry Potter." He explained. Arthur scowled.

"Yeah. Not only that, though. Apparently, according to some speculations, he was also able to create the elixir of life. If he did succeed this or not, he wasn't the first person to look for the elixir. The search for the Elixir can be traced all the way back to China, in 219 BC, when the alchemist Xu Fu searched for the Elixir of life, although legend says he found Japan instead." Kiku and Yao, now listening from behind the sofa, nodded.

"So what do you think?" Ivan asked from his spot next to the front door, his childish voice dropping the mood, and Arthur suddenly felt like he was telling a fairy tale. "Do you think Flamel discovered the Elixir?" Arthur frowned, his brows knotting together.

"No. Humans aren't meant to live forever. Once you die, you've died. You can prolong your life with medical and magical care, but eventually it will take its toll on your body. That's just one of the laws of magic. It was the braking that law which got us in this mess…" Arthur trailed off, glaring at the wood of the table. It was safe to say that he now effectively had everyone's attention at this point. Feliciano was sitting by Francis's head, mopping his sweat soaked brow with a cool, damp cloth as he listened, and Ludwig watched from his place in the arm chair, his fingers knotted together, acting as a support for his chin.

"What do you mean?" Gilbert asked, leaning forward. Arthur sighed.

"Someone decided to be an idiot. I don't know who, or where they are, but someone tried to bring the person they loved back to life with magic." Ludwig looked up, training his cold blue eyes on Arthur.

"Are you saying that's the first zombie?" He asked. Arthur sighed, nodding as he rubbed his face with one hand.

"Yes. The first Zombie was created by magic, and so somewhere there's a zombie wandering around who can only be defeated with magic. You can't combat magic with man-made weapons." Arthur stood up, and cracked his neck. Matthew winced.

"If we can find that zombie…" Arthur started, looking into the distance. "Then, maybe… possibly… the rest of the Zombies will stop…" He scoffed.

"Well, that's impossible. We don't even know what it looks like…"

"We've seen it…" Everyone in the room froze, and looked around at Alfred. The American was staring down at the wood of the table, his hands clutching the edge as if, if he let go, he would fall. Ivan frowned.

"What do you mean, "We've seen it"?" He asked. Alfred snorted.

"Not you guys. Me and Mattie." He said. The wood under his hands started to creak. Matthew's eyes widened.

He remembered.

It was meant to be a fun weekend. Him and Alfred had returned home for two days to spend time with their mum and dad. They had a picnic on Saturday – walked to the park, sat by the lake. He laughed as Alfred picked out all the sweetcorn in his tuna mayo sandwich, throwing them to the ducks when he thought no-body was looking. They went paintballing on Sunday – Matthew had won with little to no effort, so Alfred and their dad introduced more and more handicaps.

Monday… Matthew had packed his bag, ready to go back to university, walked down the stairs…

And was faced with a destroyed living room, and his brother, a pistol held loosely in one hand, standing over the mangled, marked corpses of their parents, silent tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared lifelessly at the figure crouched in the corner.

The girl was young, and would have been pretty. But long scratches made their down both of her cheeks, as if she'd clawed at her own skin. Her eyes were milky white and blank, and her body was scarred and warped, her skinny arms hanging loosely by her sides. A whimper had left Matthews throat, and the girl attacked.

"I shot her." Alfred muttered. "Five or six times, all in the head. They barely made her stumble… I thought Mattie was a goner…" He chuckled weakly, and barely raised his head as Ivan walked across the room, placing one large hand on the smaller man's shoulder. Matthew nodded. He'd thought the same thing. But then…

But then, giving a strangled cry, Alfred had thrown himself at the girl, barrelling into her and slamming her into the door. Her tiny legs had given in, and Alfred had grabbed Matthew's hand, and ran.

It had been several weeks later when, walking through a suspiciously empty street, Alfred had looked up and stopped them when he saw _people_. It had been in an open window on the second floor of a nearby house. A man they grew to love had been sitting on the window sill, his legs hanging down the side of the house, when a man they grew to respect appeared next to him, berating the auburn haired man as he brushed his own blonde hair back.

That was when Ludwig saw them, and Alfred and Matthew finally found safety.

Matthew looked down at the memory, before quietly standing up and walking out of the room. He needed time to himself.

Letting a heavy sigh escape him, Matthew wandered into a bedroom, before flopping down on the bed. He took off his glasses and ran a hand through his hair. He thought he'd been able to squash those memories…

Curling up on himself, Matthew didn't notice the door open as he began to cry.

**A note from ME! **Awww… Poor Mattie and Al… I imagine in a country ruled by Zombies, you don't really have time to mourn, but Al and Matt can't ignore their grief forever…

CYA next time!


	6. They Split

**A note from ME! **I'm sorry, people... it's another depressing chapter. It'll become lighter soon, though!

* * *

**Chapter 6 – They Split**

Gilbert slid his head through the door, and frowned at the small, huddled bundle on the bed, before slipping through, closing the door gently behind him.

"Um… Matt?" He called gently, and Matthew shifted on the bed, briefly raising his head in acknowledgement. Gilbert frowned as he moved forward and sat down on the bed, balancing awkwardly on the edge by his friend's head. Gilbert watched the blonde, waiting as the tiny, almost insignificant shakes of his shoulders slow and halt.

"Are you… alright?" Hey asked, and scowled at his own words. He was a Beilschimdt; comforting wasn't their thing. The most Gilbert had ever had to use his limited skills of tact was when he and Ludwig had heard the news that their mother had died. Even then, he had just patted Ludwig gruffly on the back and suggested they went out for a drink.

Matthew grunted quietly into the pillow, turning so he could speak to the Albino.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He whispered, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. Gilbert cleared his throat, and briefly ruffled Matthew's hair.

"The others are talking about some pretty heavy stuff out there;" The older man stated, jerking his thumb back. "Do you wanna head back and see what's going on?" Matthew hummed, sitting up unsteadily. After a moment of hesitation, Gilbert held out his hand for Matthew, who took it with a light blush.

"No." Ludwig's voice was cold and steely as he watched Arthur. The two men were standing now, facing each other from across the room. Matthew hesitated at the door, feeling the tension crackling between the German and Brit.

"This could be our only chance." Arthur growled. "I'll go myself if I have to; but if we leave her for too long she could move, and then I'll never find her!"

"It's too dangerous." Ludwig stated. "I'm not letting anyone head back. Especially not on their own. Not even you."

Arthur scowled.

"You're not the boss of me." He growled. "If I want to go, then I'll go." Feliciano squeaked as Arthur grabbed his satchel, stuffing his books back in and swinging it over his shoulder, before crossing the room to leave, picking his up his sword – which was leaning against the wall – as he did so.

"A- Arthur... Wait…" The Italian whispered. Arthur paused, his hand on the door knob, but he didn't look around.

"… Look after Francis, Feli." He said, before opening the door and leaving.

The remaining men stared after him. None of them were sure how to react; did they let Arthur go, or try to call him back? They didn't know Arthur well enough to decide. Him and Francis had only spent a brief period of time with them, but while Francis opened up and greeted everyone with open arms and wide smiles, Arthur had been more reserved, rarely talking to anyone beyond Francis.

Eventually Feliciano broke the silence.

"What… What is Francis going to think?"

The occupants of the room looked at each other warily, suddenly dreading the unconscious man's awakening.

* * *

Arthur ran his thumb over the hilt of his sword as he strode down the street. Part of him felt wary, leaving the group, but he banished it to the far corners of his mind with a determined scowl.

Texas, Alfred had said he and Matthew used to live. It was a long distance to travel, and every second was important. Once he was within a hundred miles of the original source of magic, it wouldn't be hard to locate. Arthur just hoped that the zombie hadn't moved too far.

He wondered what the others would do for shelter now Arthur wasn't there to pick locks for them…

Arthur shook his head violently; there was no point thinking about them now – if Arthur wanted to get to Texas intact, he couldn't waste his time thinking about those he'd left behind.

Although…

Arthur slowed down and glanced over his shoulder.

"… Francis…"

* * *

Ludwig paced the room, glancing at Francis every so often. Feeling responsible for driving Arthur to leave, the German had sent everyone out of the living room, intending to be the one to give Francis the news. For the last half-hour, he'd been alone in the room. Thankfully, he hadn't heard any zombies during that time; it didn't sound as if Arthur had been attacked, at the very least.

Ludwig sighed as he sat down by Francis' feet. Francis was going to be devastated… In fact, Ludwig had a nagging feeling he would be more then devastated; he would be furious.

A barely audible groan brought the blonde out of his thoughts, and he stood up. Francis stirred slightly, and shakily lifted a hand to his head. He whispered something, and Ludwig stooped down to hear the quiet voice.

"W- Water…"

"Right…" Ludwig rushed to the kitchen, running the tap and grabbing a glass from an open cupboard. Collecting a glass, he poured some water out and took it back to the gasping man, holding it as Francis drunk greedily. Eventually, Francis pulled away, and smiled gratefully at Ludwig, who had sat on the edge of the sofa Francis was laid on.

"Merci." He whispered, his voice still sounding rasped and forced. Ludwig nodded sharply, and Francis' smile faded.

"What's wrong?" He asked. Ludwig cleared his throat.

"I- it's Arthur." He replied. Francis' eyes widened, and he struggled to sit up, his flailing arms almost hitting Ludwig.

"What's wrong with him? Was he hurt? Was… was he _bitten_?" Ludwig shook his head hurriedly, off put in the face of the Frenchman's panic, and Francis sighed.

"_Mon dieu_… you had me worried; what could possibly be worse than that, _oui_? Did he just throw a tantrum? Send him to me and I'll calm him down. I'm surprised he wasn't here to see me wake up!" He laughed, but trailed off as he started to cough. "Ah, _mon amour_ is too cruel sometimes…"

Ludwig didn't answer, and Francis stared at him.

"Ludwig… where is Arthur?" He asked. "Why wasn't he here when I woke up."

Ludwig didn't want to tell him; he really didn't. But it was his responsibility, after all.

"Arthur's… gone." He said haltingly. "He… thinks he can stop the zombies. But when I told him he couldn't go… He got annoyed, and left anyway…"

Francis' eyes grew as Ludwig spoke, until he was staring at the bigger man with huge pools of blue turmoil.

"You… You told him… he couldn't go?" He asked hesitantly. Ludwig looked away, and nodded. He was so focused on not looking at Francis, he didn't see the fist until it had made contact with his jaw, sending him tumbling off of the sofa and onto the ground with a loud thump. He stared up at Francis, holding his jaw in shock as the Frenchman glowered at him, his shoulders shaking.

"Are you an _idiot_? You don't tell someone like Arthur what to _do_!" Neither noticed the door open, revealing Gilbert and Alfred, who had been alerted by the thump Ludwig had made when he hit the ground.

"He's not particularly friendly as it is, I mean- _merde_! You should have just waited for me to wake up, why did you think you could even _talk_ to Arthur, let alone _reason_ with him, and-" Gilbert strode into the room, putting his hand on Francis' shoulder, effectively cutting the tirade.

"That's enough, Francis." He said dangerously. "Ludwig didn't know Arthur would react like that; none of us did."

Francis glowered at Gilbert, before shaking his arm off. He muttered angrily to himself in French as he struggled to stand, looking around for his sword.

"What are you doing?" Alfred asked. Francis shot a glare at the American, before finally locating his sheathed sword on the worktop and picking it up, strapping it to his waist.

"I'm going after him." He snapped. "You can all continue on your journey; obviously we were all better off in separate groups."

With this bombshell, Francis turned and left the house.

* * *

**A note from ME! **The annoying thing is, I'd planned the story completely differently, but when I started writing, Arthur decided to mess with me and went off and did his own thing... TTATT


	7. They Decide

**Chapter 7 – They Decide**

"H- He left?" Feliciano stared at Gilbert, who nodded tersely.

"He went after Arthur. There's no point in going after him; this is something he obviously feels he needs to do on his own." Alfred answered, and sighed, looking over his shoulder. "It was quite a blow on Ludwig, though…"

The gathered group looked into the living room. Ludwig was sat on the sofa, resting his forehead in one hand.

"Ludwig-kun… probably feels responsible for us…" Kiku said slowly. Yao nodded in agreement.

"I can't believe Arthur left, aru…" He said. "What'll we do now?" The other's knew what he meant; now that Arthur was gone, how would they quietly slip into houses, without attracting the attention of the undead?

"I suppose we'll just have to keep moving, da?" Russia said. "Ludwig and Gilbert hotwired a car for us, so if we take turns driving, we should be able to reach the sea and catch a boat within a day…"

"V- Ve!" They turned to look at Feliciano, who looked slightly tearful. "We can't leave Francis and Arthur alone here!"

Alfred snorted.

"They left us, Feli. None of us like it any more then you do, but we can't protect everyone." Feliciano shook his head.

"N- no!" He said, his voice quivering. "They're our friends! I- If it wasn't for them, then I would be dead! And- and they're smart, and even Arthur is nice, when he stops being scary!" Alfred sighed, and looked away.

"I'm sorry, Feli. I agree with Ludwig; it's too dangerous."

"I thought you were a hero!" Alfred's head shot around, and he stared incredulously at Feliciano, who was now shaking, angry tears slipping down his face. "You- you're always saying that you're a hero, and you have to look after the rest of us! If you're a real hero, you would go after them! B- because when I was in trouble, you all came for me!"

"Feli…" The others stared at the sobbing Italian. Matthew looked warily at Alfred; his eyes were hidden behind his fringe.

"A real… hero?" Alfred asked quietly, and Feliciano stopped sobbing abruptly, looking up at the American fearfully.

"A- ah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" He started. Alfred looked up, and grinned.

"Let's go then." He said, and Feliciano stared quietly at the blonde. After a few seconds he smiled, and nodded.

"Yeah!" Yao shrugged.

"I guess it can't be helped, aru. And maybe Arthur has a point; we've been offered a chance, and we have to take it aru."

"I agree with Alfred-kun." Kiku stated. Gilbert rolled his eyes playfully.

"Make your own decisions, Kiku." He grinned at Alfred. "But hell, it sounds like fun. I'm in." Russia giggled his agreement, and Gilbert looked at Matthew, who smiled timidly.

"Well, I suppose you've all made your minds up." Feliciano turned. Ludwig was standing in the door behind him, looking as stern as ever. The tall blonde sighed.

"Do you realise how stupid and dangerous this is?" He asked tiredly. The other men looked at each other uncertainly. The last thing they wanted to do was force Ludwig to do anything, but at the same time, they couldn't just leave him alone to fend for himself.

"Well?" Ludwig asked, and Feliciano looked down.

"V- Ve… so-"

"Are you coming or what?" Feli looked up, and beamed at Ludwig's small smile.

"Si!"

* * *

Francis groaned as he leant against the wall of a nearby house, clutching his throbbing shoulder. Shakily he grabbed the ends of the bandage that covered the bite, tightening them with one hand.

"Merde…" He whispered, sinking down against the wall. He'd been running for the better part of half an hour, but still hadn't caught up with Arthur. Groping at his neck, he pulled out a necklace from his shirt. It wasn't anything particularly special looking – half of a rusted locket which might have been beautiful once upon a time – but it was still the most important thing he had ever owned…

"_Arthur! There you are!" Arthur looked away from the river he was sitting above, and scowled._

"_Francis, what are you doing here?" The fifteen year old beamed at his younger friend, and, after kicking off his shoes and socks, scrambled quickly up the tree Arthur was sitting in, balanced above the river on a large branch that hung out across it._

"_I just got back from my first day of college!" Francis proclaimed, scooting along the branch. Arthur frowned._

"_O- oh yeah…" He said quietly. "I forgot you were starting today…" Francis pouted._

"_That's mean." He said. The two teens sat in silence for a few minutes, thinking to themselves. Francis ran the words through his head, examining them, before his eyes widened._

"_Oh!" He proclaimed. "Of course!" He scrambled closed to Arthur, who stared at him as if he was an idiot._

"_What are you doing?" He asked, and leant back when Francis shoved his face towards the twelve year old._

"_Arthur… will you miss me?" Arthur blushed, and tried to move away._

"_I- Idiot, wh- what could possibly bring you to believe that?" He snapped, dragging himself backwards on the branch. Francis cooed, wrapping his arms around Arthur tightly._

"_Aw, you will!" He said, smiling. "This makes me so happy, Arthur!" Arthur flailed in Francis' arms, knocking the two off balance and sending them tumbling off of the branch into the river below._

_Arthur surfaced, spluttering as the cold water knocked his breath out of his lungs._

"_T- Twat!" He gasped as his feet scrabbled for surface on the river floor. The water wasn't very deep; there was enough to swim in, but thankfully shallow enough to stand up. Next to him, Francis came up, coughing and laughing. Arthur scowled when he noticed that, while Arthur had to stand on the tips of his toes to keep his mouth above water, the water level only came up to Francis' chest._

"_When the hell did you get so much taller than me?" Arthur asked grumpily, wading towards the banks. Francis smiled._

"_When I hit puberty. Don't worry; you'll catch up in a few years." He started to follow Arthur, and yelped. The English boy, who had climbed up onto land, looked over his shoulder._

"_What's wrong?" He asked, his brows furrowing. Francis wobbled in the water._

"_Something's digging into my foot…" He said, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. Arthur rolled his eyes, before slipping back in and making his way towards Francis._

"_Here." He grumbled. "Put your arm around my shoulders…" Francis complied, letting Arthur half drag, half support him back to the bank. Once on land, Arthur looked at the bottom of Francis' foot, and winced._

"_Bloody hell…"He muttered. "I've told you before not to take your shoes off out here, haven't I?" He chided. Francis pouted._

"_But I like how the tree bark feels on my feet…" He mumbled. Arthur rolled his eyes._

"_Whatever. Brace yourself; this will hurt a little." He hooked his finger around the metal that had embedded itself into Francis' foot and tugged. Francis swore loudly as it came out._

"_M- Merde…" He whimpered. "A little? Arthur, it felt like you were cutting my foot open all over again!" Arthur snorted._

"_Stop being a baby. I'm going to clean it now; there could be any sort of bacteria in the river." He reached into his pocket, pulling out some antiseptic wipes. Francis raised an eyebrow at him._

"_Why do you have those?" He asked warily. Arthur shrugged._

"_I was playing Rugby with my brothers today; these were left over after I cleaned up Aled." He opened up the wipes, before carefully pressing one against the gash. Francis hissed, his leg jerking, colliding with Arthur's nose._

"_Watch it!" The green-eyed boy snapped, holding his nose with one hand. Francis laughed sheepishly._

_Arthur picked up the object he'd taken out of Francis' foot, tossing it to the older blonde._

"_Here; look at this while I'm cleaning you up." He growled. Francis caught it with fumbling hands, scowling at the blood which smeared off of it onto his hands. He leant forward and swiped a wipe from Arthur, who merely grunted at him as he returned his attention back to his friend's foot._

_Amidst pained gasps and annoyed hisses, Arthur and Francis cleaned their respective, blood soaked objects. Francis beamed once he finished cleaning the metal before grinding his teeth as Arthur finished cleaning his foot._

"_There you go." Arthur muttered. "It's still bleeding quite a bit, so you'll probably have to leave your shoe and sock off for a while so they don't stick…"_

"_Merci, Arthur." Francis chirped. Arthur blushed, looking away._

"_I- it's nothin'." He muttered. Francis smiled gently, before looking down at the object in his hands again. Arthur leaned forward to look at it._

"_Is that a locket?" He asked, and Francis hummed. It was heart shaped, and the front was littered with tiny grooves, either part of its original design, or the results of god only knew how long in the river._

"_It looks pretty old." Arthur commented, standing up. Francis nodded, stumbling to his own feet, before balancing on his uninjured foot. Arthur snorted._

"_Let's head back." He said, looking around for Francis' shoes. He found them at the base of the tree, and picked them up, taking them back to Francis._

"_Only put one of them on." He reminded. "I'll help you walk the rest of the way back."_

_Francis hummed distractedly, taking the shoes and socks and hopping his way over to a log, sitting on it while he slipped his shoe on. Arthur waited impatiently, leaning against a tree, and straightened when Francis looked up at him._

"_You ready?" The English boy asked gruffly, and Francis nodded, smiling as Arthur bent over to help him stand._

"_You're rather responsible Arthur, oui?" He said, laughing, and Arthur grunted._

"_I've got four older brothers." He pointed out. "At least one of us has to know what we're doing…" Francis chuckled, and spent the rest of the journey up the river and down the street in silence, save for the two boy's uncoordinated footsteps and the steady drip of water slipping out of their clothes and hair._

_Francis smiled gratefully when they reached his house_

"_Merci, mon petit Lapin…" He thanked, detaching himself form Arthur's shoulder. Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly._

"_It was nothing." He grumbled, and Francis laughed._

"_Whatever you say."_

_Arthur shuffled his feet for a moment, before turning away._

"_I'll see you later…" He mumbled, starting to across the neat garden towards his own house next door._

"_Arthur, wait…" Francis called, fumbling with something in his hands. Arthur faced him, raising an eyebrow as Francis grinned triumphantly._

"_Here." He tossed something towards Arthur, who snatched it out of the air. He frowned at it._

"_The locket?" He asked dubiously. Francis smirked._

"_Half of the locket." He replied. "I have the other half. Keep it with you, oui?" Arthur rolled his eyes._

"_Idiot; what am I going to do with half a locket?" He asked, and Francis smiled._

"_I'm never going to leave you behind, mon cher." He stated instead of answering. "no matter where you go, I'm going to follow."_

_Arthur blushed._

"_You sound like a stalker…" He muttered to himself, before sighing. "And I guess I'll be the one who's expected to save you all the time from now on?" Francis shrugged playfully._

"_I never said that, cher, but if you want to…"_

"_Idiot." Arthur responded, his lips twitching with a fond smile._

"He keeps on running off, oui?" Francis muttered to himself, smiling fondly. Grunting slightly, he pushed himself up off the floor, and, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, stumbled out into the road again.

* * *

Arthur sat down on the curb, and sighed. He needed directions… For all he knew, he'd been walking the wrong way ever since he left the house. He undid his satchel, rummaging in it until he founded the book he needed. The Englishman flicked through it, grunting in satisfaction when he reached the page he wanted, before roughly sketching the pattern on the road with a stone. He sliced the tip of his thumb open on his sword, and let a few drops of blood fall onto the pattern before sucking the wound.

The pattern briefly glowed, and Arthur hummed to himself.

"I need to travel further west…" He muttered to himself, storing the book in his satchel and slipping it over his head. Pushing himself to his feet, he started walking again.


	8. They Travel

**Chapter 8**

**They Travel**

"Do we have everything?" Ludwig asked, checking over the black SUV everyone had piled into. In the driver's seat, Gilbert grunted.

"For the last time, we have everything we could possibly need, unless you want to go back and get the kitchen sink." The Albino rolled his eyes, and placed his hands on the steering wheel. "_Mein gott_, you're worse than Roddy!" Ludwig hummed, and climbed into the passenger seat, looking round.

"Put on your seatbelts." He reminded everyone. "As soon as the Zombies hear the engine, they'll swamp us, so we're going to have to exceed the speed limit."

Matthew looked at Alfred, who was almost on top of him in his attempts to sit as far away from Ivan as possible.

"Do speed limits even matter anymore?" He pondered. Alfred grinned.

"This is so cool…" He stated. "It feels like we're going on a road trip!"

"Ve~" Feli murmured from the other side of Ivan. "I've never been on a road trip before… it sounds like fun…"

Ivan smiled childishly.

"Da." He agreed. "It does; it's always fun when we're all together."

In the boot, Yao rolled his eyes.

"Aiyaa! Have your three forgotten what's happening, aru?" He snapped. Kiku frowned.

"I'm a bit worried about how we're going to fit everyone in once we pick up Arthur-san and Francis-san…" He pondered.

In the front, Ludwig groaned. He hadn't thought of that.

"We'll… deal with that when we reach them." He said, tired of making plans and being the reluctant leader. Gilbert grinned.

"That's more like it!" He whooped, and slammed his foot onto the pedal.

* * *

Francis could feel sweat beading on his forehead, but didn't dare raise a hand to wipe it away. Around him, zombies stumbled past, grunting as they brushed past each other. Francis winced as one knocked into him, and breathed a silent sigh of relief when it continued its journey away from him.

It was times like these when he was so glad the phone lines were all down. Getting called at a time like this was potentially the worst possible situation he could think of.

Francis slowly ducked under the arm of a particularly large zombie, chewing on his lip as he did. He gagged; the bottom half of the zombies face had decomposed, leaving a gaping hole.

A fist connected with his shoulder, and he gasped in pain. His lower arm throbbed, angrily reminding him of the bite wounds existence, and the urgent need to change the bandages. The last time he had checked the wound, it had been a sickly, unhealthy yellow, and oozed a foul smelling, clear liquid that was sticky to the touch. The only blessing was the blissful numbness that had spread across his shoulder, masking the crippling pain.

Somehow, he guessed that wasn't a good thing.

Francis' face broke into a relieved smile as he passed through the last layer of Zombies. They all appeared to be grouping together, which was a little worrying; however, it left wide open spaces to move in without fear of alerting the zombies.

He was certain he couldn't be that far away from Arthur now. He'd been finding small magic circles etched into the ground; surely they could only be made by Arthur.

Francis took a few cautious steps away from the zombie horde. He didn't want to make any accidental loud noises until he was sure there wouldn't be any repercussions.

As if conducted by a malicious force, his phone chose that moment to ring, and Francis paused, his eyes widening. Through the sudden terror that gripped his mind, he briefly wondered who had set his ring tone to '_Voulez vous cocher avec moi'_ – he didn't even know he had that song on his phone. Behind him, the gang of zombies all slowly turned their heads.

* * *

Arthur stared at his phone, wide eyed.

His phone twinkled back merrily at him, proudly showing off the multitude of texts, missed calls and voicemail that was swamping it. The moment his phone had blared out the opening to "We are the Champions", he had darted to the nearest house, praying that no zombies had heard. He scanned through his voicemails, chewing his lip, before raising the phone to his ear.

"_You have fifty four new messages. First Message;_

_Arthur, it's Ian. Call me when you get this message._

_Second message;_

_It's Ian again, just wondered if you didn't get my last message._

_Third message;_

_Hey, it's Patrick, just checking up on you; Ian was starting to get edgy, so I'm just checking up on you, text me back._

_Fourth message._

_Oi bastard, call Patrick and Ian, they're being annoying._

_Fifth message;_

_It's Sean, by the way._

_Sixth message;_

_Damnit, Artie, where the fuck are you? There's a load of panic on the news regarding America… just… goddamnit, you're my brother… you can't be… I mean, it's not like you… Fucking… Call me. It's Ian._

_Seventh message;_

_Uncle Arthur, it's Peter… Dad is crying… he said you might be dead, but…_

_Eighth message;_

_Arthur, it's Monique. I can't get through to Francis, please tell me he's with you! Please… phone me back… You and my brother have to be alive…"_

Arthur stared blankly at the wall in front of him as he continued to listen to the messages from his and Francis' family. A tear slowly slid down his face.

"_Fifty fourth message;_

_Arthur, I'm sorry… I know you can't hear this, and you probably never will… but I should have been a better brother. Me and the others never really made life easy for you… if we'd been better brothers, then maybe you wouldn't have gone to America… Maybe you wouldn't be-_

_Ian! Ian! I can feel him!_

_Aled? What do you-_

_I can feel Arthur's magic! He's still alive!_

_H- He's alive? Really?_

_Yes!_

… _God damnit, why am I leaving such a god damned sappy message then? Get Sean and Patrick, we're going to America!"_

Clunk.

Arthur stared at his phone. The last message had been left a couple of days ago, before him and Francis had met the others. Which meant, if Ian had decided to get into America… and he hadn't left a message since to tell Arthur they'd failed…

"Idiots…" Arthur chocked out, feeling his throat unexpectedly tighten. "Fucking idiots…"

Outside, Arthur heard a screech of tyres, and looked out of the window at the black SUV which skidded around the corner, stopping down the road. The car doors opened, and Arthur's eyes widened.


	9. They Gather

**A note from ME! **Oh god… I have no excuse for how late this is… Just take this chapter along with my apologies, and try to find it in your hearts not to kill me!

**Chapter 9**

**They Gather**

Francis slowly opened his eyes. In his pocket, his phone continued to tinkle away. The surrounding zombies raised their heads, but other than that, they didn't react. Francis slowly reached for his phone, swallowing. He checked it, and frowned, before flipping it open and answering the call.

"…_Bonjour_?" He asked. Next to him, a zombie started to make small little grunting noises as it wandered past. On the other end, Monique Bonnefoy gave a small gasp.

"Francis!" She cried happily, and begun to babble in French. "I can't believe… Thank god, you're okay!" Francis listened mutely as his younger sister continued, before clearing his throat.

"S- So the zombies didn't get to England?" He asked, a little relieved. Monique hummed.

"No, they haven't gotten overseas at all. When they announced the zombies on the news, we didn't really believe it…"

Francis frowned when he heard a bang in the background, and the angry raised voices of Arthur's brothers over a short shriek from Francis' youngest sister Angelique. Francis frowned.

"… Monique, what's happening?" He asked.

"Hm?" Monique replied. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ian just drove straight into a zombie."

Francis pulled the phone away from his ear, and stared at it. Slowly he brought it back to his ear.

"I… thought the Zombies hadn't spread over the Atlantic?" He asked.

"No, they haven't."

Francis chewed his bottom lip, fearing the worst.

"Then… what do you _mean_, 'Ian just drove straight into a zombie'?"

Monique cleared her throat.

"Well it may have been a living person, it was hard to tell, we drove past so quickly-"

"Monique…" Francis growled, continuing to edge his way through the zombie horde. "Where are you…"

"In America looking for you, of course!" Monique exclaimed. Francis almost dropped his phone. "Didn't Arthur tell you? Ian left a message on his phone saying we were coming…"

"N- No, he didn't tell me…" Francis said quietly, and he stopped walking, staring at the ground. His sisters were currently in America, with the four most irresponsible people he knew and, presumably, Ian's seven year old son Peter. Arthur was somewhere on his own, probably fuming at the thought of being told what to do. Francis himself was currently suffering from a zombie fight, and was starting to regret leaving Feli and the others behind. He couldn't imagine a worse situation than this.

"Francis? Are you still there?" Monique asked. Francis hummed to reassure her, but was interrupted by Arthur's twin Aled on the other line.

"I've found him!" Aled called excitedly. "I've found Arthur's magic!"

"I'll see you soon, Francis!" Monique cried, and Francis could almost see her smile.

"Monique, wait-"

Francis was interrupted by the clunk of the phone being hung up. He swallowed and bit his lip, slowly closing his phone and stowing it away in his pocket.

"_Merde_…" He whispered quietly. A zombie stumbled into his shoulder, and continued walking past him, completely ignoring the human.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit…" Alfred muttered, burying his face into Ivan's scarf. Ivan himself looked faintly sick. Matthew clung to the seat in front of him, occasionally dry retching; he'd already expelled the contents of his stomach thirty-eight run-downed zombies ago. In the back seats, Yao and Kiku clung to each other, Yao wailing loudly every time the car screeched around a corner, leaning dangerously to the side. In the front, Ludwig had placed his head between his knees, making small noises whenever the car lurched.

Gilbert whooped as he ran over his fifty-sixth zombie, cackling as he spun the wheel. Next to Ivan, Feliciano chattered away in quick Italian on his phone with someone called Lovino. Alfred detached himself from Ivan's scarf long enough to stare at the Italian with horror.

"How can he stand it? Is he a monster?" He asked. Feliciano, hearing the American, pulled away from his phone and smiled.

"Ve~ I always used to drive like this back home." He replied, before returning to his phone conversation. Alfred and Mathew exchanged a look, then Gilbert sped over a speed bump, and Alfred returned to Ivan's scarf, moaning.

"Ve, Gilbert, there!" Feliciano called, standing and pointing.. Ludwig looked around.

"Seatbelt!" He snapped, before letting his gaze follow the direction Feliciano was pointing. Down the road a horde of the undead had gathered, stumbling around with almost comical movements. Amidst these zombies, he spotted a familiar blonde head and grinned.

Gilbert spotted Francis at the same time and spun the wheel, sliding through several zombies.

"Chickie, open the door!" He called. Matthew did so, pushing Alfred across so the American was sitting on the lap of a surprised Ivan, who wrapped his arms around Alfred's waist automatically to keep him from falling off. Matthew had to hold the car door open as Gilbert manoeuvred through the zombies.

"He's not moving!" Yao called, staring through the back window at the shell-shocked Francis. "He hasn't moved at all!"

"Damnit…" Matthew growled and, as Gilbert spun the car around again, threw his upper body out of the car, reaching out and grabbing Francis by the arm. He pulled Francis in, helped by Alfred, who'd grabbed his twin's upper arms, slamming the car door and leaning back, panting. Francis stared at the group in wonder.

"_Mon dieu_…" He whispered. "You… I thought you were going to-"

"Well you thought wrong." Gilbert snapped. "Never leave a man behind, _ja_?"

"_Da_, you're our friend." Ivan chipped in, smiling a rare, honestly happy smile.

Feliciano, who had returned to his conversation on the phone after the others had spotted Francis, hung up.

"Ve~ _Fratello_ is going to come help us." He informed the others. His friends exchanged looks. Surely a relative of Feliciano would just be trouble…

"Um… Feli…" Alfred started slowly, still perched on Ivan's lap. "Aren't you worried about your brother coming here?"

"Ve?" Feliciano tilted his head at the question. "Of course not; big brother Antonio will be with him! And his lackeys." Alfred snorted.

"You make it sound like he's a big mafia boss or something!" He exclaimed, laughing. Riding high on the adrenalin created from Gilbert's driving and barrelling through a horde of zombies, the others slowly started to laugh with him. Feliciano just smiled as his friends broke into hysterical laughter.

"Of course not." He said when they'd eventually calmed down, before adding, with complete sincerity, "My grandfather is."

No-one laughed this time.

Francis took his phone away from his ear, sighing. His phone was suddenly out of signal again… Kiku leant forward from the boot, noting the Frenchman's distress.

"It said on the internet that they're trying to get a phone signal across America again. They probably had a brief moment of success. We'll get signal soon, don't worry."

This didn't cheer Francis up.

"Then how are we meant to find Arthur?" He asked. Ludwig cleared his throat.

"The same way we found you." He replied. "We drive through every single street on our way to Texas; it may take us a while, but he can't be too far ahead of us. He's travelling by foot after all."

Francis frowned, but didn't comment; it was more then he'd had when he set out to find Arthur in the first place. He swivelled in his seat, looking around at the rest of the group.

"What's the matter with you lot?" He asked, noting the pale faces that stared back at him.

Half an hour later, he understood. He understood _perfectly._

"_Mon dieu_, slow down!" He yelled as Gilbert spun the corner, the tyres screeching. Alfred moaned, burying his face into Ivan's chest this time.

"We're all going to die!" Yao screeched.

The group's screams were cut off when Gilbert's foot slammed onto the brake and they were all sent lurching forwards, Kiku and Yao thudding into the back of the seats in the boot with grunts.

"What?" Ludwig asked his brother, looking around the street for anything that would stop his reckless older brother. "What's wrong?"

Gilbert frowned out of the window.

"… Look!" He squawked, pointing. "That bastard has a better car then us!" Ivan looked over Gilbert's shoulder at the glossy black SUV.

"It looks the same as ours, _da_?" He pointed out. "How can you tell?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"You want me to prove it?" He asked, undoing his seatbelt. Matthew looked out of the window.

"Where're all the Zombies? There's none out there, eh…"

He was right; the street was completely empty of the undead. Gilbert shrugged.

"Who cares?" He asked, opening his door. Alfred followed his lead, scrambling over Ivan and Feliciano and falling to his knees to kiss the ground underneath him.

"Oh thank god!" He cried. "We're alive!"

The others followed, stepping carefully over Alfred as Gilbert strode to the SUV.

"Look." He stated. "We've got a Mid-Size SUV; this is a full size; a Mercedes-Benz GL-Class… Second Generation as well, these aren't meant to be released until next year. How did this bastard get his hands on one…" He trailed off, muttering in quiet, excited german. Ludwig rolled his eyes.

"_Bruder_ is a car fanatic." He explained. "It's why we set up a garage when we came here."

Gilbert ignored him, patting the bonnet with awe. "Come on, let's see what makes this baby tick…"

He darted to the driver's side, intending to pop the hood. However, the moment his had was on the door, the alarm went off, blaring through the streets.

Immediately the others were alert; Ludwig and Ivan slid their guns out, cocking them and shooting glances down the street.

"Gilbert…" Ludwig growled, looking over his shoulder at the other end. Gilbert back-pedaled from the car, his hands held up.

"It wasn't me!" He protested. "I'm too awesome to set off an alarm!"

"Why aren't they attacking?" Alfred wondered, retrieving his own gun. "This place is completely empty…"

"My brothers are very… _thorough_." A familiar voice called. Weapons were slowly lowered as the men turned to face the speaker.

Arthur Kirkland grinned.

"I thought I heard a group of idiots trying to get themselves killed." He teased, his eyes sparkling.


	10. They Rest

**A note from ME! **Here you go, guys; you get this chapter quickly as a gift from me! ^^

**Chapter 10**

**They Rest**

Feliciano watched the four men that flanked Arthur curiously while Francis greeted his sisters with a stern words and a weary smile. Arthur's brothers were strange, to say the least. Ian, the eldest, was tall and muscled, with flaming red hair swept back from his forehead and an easy, honest smile. He moved from teasing his younger brothers with playful pushes and ruffled hair to spinning and tossing his son, the blonde haired, blue eyed Peter. Sean and Patrick were less excited and boyish then their brother, and despite being twins seemed uneasy around each other; Sean in particular stood apart from his brothers, his freckled face lighting up with a fierce blush when Peter took him by the hand with a wide smile, urging him to come and play with the family.

Watching this all with a smile while Arthur scowled darkly stood Aled, the same straw-blonde hair and forest-green eyes as Arthur somehow making him seem gentler and kinder then his twin. While Arthur was slim and poised, Aled was built, with wide shoulders and muscled arms.

"_Monsieur_ Feliciano?"

Feliciano started in surprise and looked around at the girl who'd called for him; one of Francis' sisters, Angelique. Her skin was darker then her brother's, and she wore her long black hair in two long bunches tied with red ribbon.

"_Si_!" Feli greeted with a smile. "You're Angelique? You're very pretty! I can't believe someone as pretty as you came to this horrible place!"

Angelique smiled shyly, twirling a piece of loose hair around her finger. "_Mon Frere_ told me that you saved his life…" She breached quietly. Feli tilted his head, considering the statement.

"Ve? I wouldn't say saved… I didn't do that much, I just shot the Zombie, and-" The Italian was cut off by two slim arms around his waist. Angelique buried her face into Feli's chest.

"_Merci_…" She whispered. Feli smiled gently, putting his hands on the girl's back and returning her hug.

Ludwig watched this display with a gentle smile; Feliciano had come a long way in the short time he'd known him.

"It's weird…" Gilbert commented to his younger brother as the men started to file into the house, Aled locking the door behind them. "We haven't really known the others that long, have we? But I feel like I've known them for years…"

Ludwig hummed in agreement, following Arthur into a cosy living room. The men piled onto the sofa's, a triad of complaints and grunts of pain rising up until they were eventually comfortable. Arthur, who had claimed an armchair for himself, watched this with a frown.

"Right." Alfred broke the content silence. "Firstly, how did you find each other?"

Aled smiled kindly – an odd look on the face they'd come to associate with scowls and frowns. "Through magic; has Arthur told you about…"

"_Da_." Ivan replied. "He told us."

"Right; well, mine and Arthur's magic is in sync, because we're twins." Aled explained. "We can pick out and identify each other's magic from miles away, although the further away we are, the harder it is to sense each other. It took me a while to find Arthur's, but the closer I got to him, the easier it got to find him."

Yao nodded, humming.

"So it's like some sort of magical radar?" He asked. Patrick, squashed between Aled and Peter, nodded.

"Yeah, a bit."

Kiku glanced out of the window.

"How come there aren't any zombies?" He asked. Ian grinned, looking a bit proud.

"We set up a magical barrier, about the length of the street." He told the Japanese man. "Because the Zombies are animated purely by magic, they get caught up in it and can't get through. You guys, however, could."

Francis frowned, touching his shoulder. Arthur glanced up, noticing this small gesture, and frowned.

"How's the bite?" He asked quietly. Francis didn't meet his eyes, taking his hand away.

"Absolutely fine." He replied. "No need to worry." Arthur's brow furrowed, and he started to rise from his chair.

"Francis, if it's still hurting-"

"I said it's fine!"

Arthur stared at Francis, mouth slightly open. The Frenchman didn't look up at him, keeping his gaze fixed to the floor. Arthur swallowed, and scowled.

"Fine." He muttered. "Good, that's good." Without another glance at his childhood friend he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. As soon as he'd left, Francis let out a ragged breath, gritting his teeth. Ian rose, kneeling in front of Francis.

"Let me see." He said seriously. This time Francis didn't protest, taking off his shirt and letting the eldest Kirkland pull the yellowed bandages away from the wound. They stuck, connected by strings of clear, gooey gel. Ian's face darkened.

"How long has it been like this?" He asked. Francis bit his lip.

"A while." He replied. "Can't give you the exact length of time…"

"What was it like this morning?" Ian asked seriously. "Was it anything like this?"

"_Non_… It was fine… It hurt a bit, but it was fine…"

Ian swore, running his hand through his hair.

"Arthur was afraid of this." He muttered. "He told us everything that happened… This is the real reason he wanted to hunt down the original zombie…" He told the travelling group. Matthew glanced from Francis to Ian, worried.

"Why? What's wrong?"

Ian rubbed his hand over his face, sitting back on his haunches.

"Arthur wasn't strong enough to completely dispel the Zombie Magic." Ian explained. "Only to slow it down. He didn't want to tell you, because panic and fear is likely to increase the speed of the turning." He looked up at Francis with knowing green eyes. "That's also why he didn't wait for you to wake up and take you with him."

Francis stared blankly back at Ian, not letting his face betray what he was feeling.

"What do you mean?" He asked. "Surely he didn't think his leaving _wouldn't_ panic me? He _terrified_ me; he could have _died_. Did he ever think of _that_?" Sean spoke for the first time now; his voice was quiet, and he didn't look up as he spoke as every pair of eyes turned to him.

"The fear of death and desire to live fuel the turning process." He said, his voice a monotone. "Arthur thought, rightly so, that if you were to go with him into the epicentre of the magic, where the zombies would surely be stronger, this fear would be increased tenfold. However, if you stayed with the others and continued out of America, you'd be safer, less likely to be in the firing zone. Instead you chose to risk your life as well." He looked up now, his bright green eyes drilling straight into Francis' blue ones. "How did you think you could help in any way? With a wounded shoulder; you'd already fainted once. Did you honestly think you _wouldn't_ hinder Arthur?"

Francis prickled, his face darkening as he glared at Sean. Ian frowned at his younger brother.

"Sean, that's going too far; he was worried, that's all."

Feliciano tilted his head, confused.

"Ve~ Francis? Is that why you were annoyed at him?" He asked. Francis sniffed.

"I wasn't annoyed." He replied stonily. Gilbert snorted.

"You were _so_ annoyed." He replied. "And now you can't be annoyed because he was right; he was trying to do what was best for you."

"You'd have done the same if it was the other way around." Matthew said quietly. Gilbert nodded.

"Exactly. So just go to him, kiss and make-up."

Francis gaped at them, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Ivan reached forward and closed it for him. With a pointed look and a determined nod, Francis rose and left.

Aled smiled after him as the door closed, before rising himself.

"We should leave soon." He told the others. "We want to get to the epicentre as soon as possible."

"Ve~" Feliciano stopped the taller man. "Can we wait here? My brother should get to America by tomorrow, and he and his lackeys can help us."

Ludwig paled as Feliciano reminded him of his family.

"H- How will he find us?" He asked, while Aled frowned, looking around and mouthing the word "Lackey?" silently at Patrick, who shrugged. Feli smiled.

"He put a bug on my phone." He replied. "He thought I didn't know. I don't really mind, though, so I left it on." Ivan laughed.

"Your family is very interesting, little Feli, _da_?" Alfred groaned, leaning forward and resting his head on his knee.

"This is so surreal…" He muttered. "And such a stereotype too…"

Feli tilted his head, offered a little "Ve…" Of confusion, before checking his watch.

"Ve! It's dinner time! I'll make us something!" He proclaimed, scrambling up from the packed sofa. Yao, who'd been wedged tightly between him and Kiku, yelped as he tumbled into the free space.

Arthur grumbled, aiming the gun again. He shot. A click of the tongue in a disapproving tut, another round placed in, and once more the gun was aimed. Across the roof, the can he'd placed remained resolutely intact, mocking his bad aiming with its very existence.

"Stupid…" Bang. "Selfish…" Bang. "Unreasonable, immature, GIT!" Bang, bang, bang.

"That seems a little harsh." A voice called from the stairwell. "It's only a can, after all."

Arthur looked around at Francis. He opened his mouth to retort, but stopped; gone was Francis' normal smirk of self-satisfaction. For once, Arthur could only see sincerity and honesty in his childhood friend's face.

"I'm sorry." Francis said quietly. "I didn't know the cure wasn't permanent."

Arthur scowled.

"My brother's shouldn't have told you…" He muttered, looking away. Francis hummed.

"No. They shouldn't; but they did, and now I can understand. I don't like it, but I understand why you left."

Arthur's eyes dropped, and he lowered the gun.

"I don't want you to die." He muttered. Francis gave a weak smile.

"If it helps, I'm not that thrilled about it either." He thought about his words and winced. "Actually, that doesn't help at all, does it?"

"I… I _really_ don't want you to die." Arthur ignored Francis' feeble attempt at a joke. "I… I think I might care about you… a little bit." Francis sobered, watching the Englishman. When it became evident he wasn't going to say anything more, Francis strolled forwards, past Arthur, and sat on the ledge of the roof, his feet dangling down, and he looked across at the city. They'd reached a familiar, urban section, and he pointed.

"Look; I used to work over there." He pointed at the small block. Arthur looked around, leaning forwards.

"I think it's on fire…" He commented. Francis shrugged.

"They were never too vigilant about health and safety." He replied, the joke strained as he tried not to think about what could possibly have happened to the restaurant; he'd liked the boss there, he'd been friendly and handsome. Without looking up at Arthur he patted the small patch of ledge next to him. Arthur placed down the gun he'd borrowed from his brother and sat down.

"But it was too far away, and so I changed work to that lovely little café down the road from your college." Francis added. Arthur hummed, and tried not to pull away when Francis wrapped his arm around his waist. Instead the blonde rested his head against Francis' shoulder and closed his eyes. The two sat there, watching the sun go down on the hordes of limping, mangled monster kept out by Ian's magical barrier.

Feli sung softly to himself as he busied himself with dinner, stirring and tasting the food. Ludwig watched him from the doorway and strained his ears to try to make out the words.

"_Let's haa~ave a toast with our boots, Italia~"_

"What's that?" The German asked, making his presence known for the first time, and Feli jumped, almost dropping his spoon.

"Ve? Ludwig! Don't scare me like that!" He cried, tears of surprise pooling in the corners of his eyes. Ludwig was quick to comfort the small Italian, feeling inexplicably guilty.

"I'm sorry! You were singing and I didn't want to disturb you." He muttered gruffly, blushing at his own words. Feli blinked, before beaming.

"Ve… It's okay." He replied, giving Ludwig a hug before returning to his cooking.

"So what were you singing?" Ludwig asked timidly. Feli glanced over his shoulder.

"Ve~ I don't know! I made it up." He hummed a few notes, as if as an example. "I can't remember it very well now." Ludwig frowned, wanting to probe for more information – how could someone just _forget_ their own lyrics? – but he was interrupted by a tinny tune coming from the other room.

In the living room, Ivan cried out in surprise, dropping his gun and scrambling for his coat on the sofa, from which the jumpy notes of Tetris floated. Alfred stopped talking and watched as Ivan answered.

"_Privyet_…" The Russian man spoke. To all those who watched, he looked perfectly composed, but on closer inspection, Alfred and Arthur's brothers could see the slight shake of his hand that betrayed the nervousness and fear that coursed through him. There was a pause, and then a huge smile split his face, and he was yammering fast-paced Russian into the phone. When he eventually hung up, he looked more content then Alfred could ever remember seeing him.

"Good news?" He asked. Ivan hummed.

"My sisters." He muttered. "They made it out of America; they're in France at the moment. I told them I'd call back tomorrow."

Alfred nodded; Ivan's sister was probably interested less in knowing what Ivan was doing and more about checking up on him and making sure he was still alive. Ian clicked his tongue, clicking his shotgun back together after it's polishing.

"So, they managed to get the phone lines back up." He observed. Ivan nodded.

"Katyusha said that they are setting up scheduled shifts; nine in the morning, one in the afternoon and seven at night, American time."

Alfred hummed.

"That's good to know." The group continued polishing their weapons in silence. Eventually though, Alfred, who Ivan had long since learned couldn't sit still for much longer then a micro-second, broke the silence.

"Ivan, you lived with your sisters, right?" He asked. Ivan' hummed.

"That's correct."

"Then… how did you get separated from them?"

Ivan stopped polishing and frowned, leaning back into the sofa.

"That's a long story…" He murmured. "For you to understand, I'd need to start from the beginning…"

**A note from ME! **Yeah, no. You have to wait until next chapter to find out Ivan's background, whenever that may come up…

Right, well we're out of what I've fondly been referring to in the safety of my own head the "FrUK Arc", now we're into the "RussAme" Arc. ^^ If that doesn't give you a big hint as to what's coming up next, I don't know what will!


	11. They Reminisce

**A note from ME! **Here you go, guys! I'm on a roll!

**Chapter eleven**

**They Reminisce**

_It was cold._

_Ivan shivered violently. He wanted to sit down. He wanted to sleep._

"_Ivan? Ivan, dear, don't close your eyes…"_

_Why? It would be so easy. He was so cold…_

"_Katyusha? Natalya? Come on, get up…"_

_Why wouldn't his mother let him sleep? His trembling fingers scrambled for the collar of his coat, pulling it up against the howling wind. Soft hands wrapped around his own, tugging him to his feet, and a thin, long coat was wrapped around his shoulders_

"_Ivan? You can't sleep. Do you understand? You _must _keep walking. You have to look after your sisters for me. Ivan? Ivan, look at me. You _have _to survive."_

_Ivan slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the wind that blew into them, and looked up at his mother. He frowned at her bare arms, before looking at the coat she'd draped over his shoulders. His mother, reassured that Ivan wasn't going to sleep, started urging his sisters to their feet, leading them to Ivan and adjusting her coat so that it covered all three of them._

"_Ma?" Natalya asked, wrapping her arms around Ivan's waist. Their mother smiled weakly._

"_Don't worry, little ones." She whispered. "We're almost there… come on, now; not far now."_

_Ivan staggered forward's awkwardly, hampered by Natalya's tight grip on his waist and Katyusha's hand in his own. Eventually, however, he could make out squares of light ahead of them. His mother gave a small, relieved "Oh…" before stumbling, falling to her knees._

"_Ma!" Natalya cried, breaking away from her older siblings and tumbling forwards to her mother. She smiled bravely for her youngest child, wrapping her arms around her in a limp hug._

"_Oh my beautiful Natalya…" She murmured. "Your father would be proud if he could see you… And yours, Ivan." She added, calling the older two over. "Your father would be so proud of both of you…" Laying kisses on Katyusha and Ivan's foreheads, she buried her face into Ivan's shoulder._

"_Look after your sisters…" She murmured tiredly. "Be strong for them; you only have each other…" She trailed of. The warmth of her breath disappeared from Ivan's neck._

"… _Ma?" Ivan asked, nudging his mother._

_She didn't open her eyes._

_Katyusha started to tear up, her bottom lip wobbling. Natalya sniffled._

_Ivan pulled away, trying to support his mother down into the snow. He stared down sombrely, before roughly grabbing Natalya and Katyusha's hands, pulling them forward. Natalya screamed and kicked, reaching out for her immobile mother. Ivan ignored her, tugging his sisters towards the distant light. The small squares of yellow light separated and formed a small village. Ivan looked back. He could no longer make out the dark lump that was his mother._

_Shaking his head determinedly, he continued marching forwards. Natalya had long stopped trying to escape, and instead wailed loudly._

_The first house Ivan knocked on, he received no answer. The same with the next, and the next. The inhabitants were superstitious, and pinned Natalya's unearthly wailing on the presence of some malevolent ghost, Ivan's knocking the persistent demands for entrance. Eventually, however, the siblings reached a tall, grey stone building. Ivan rubbed his eyes on the sleeve of his coat, looking up at the church. Pausing for only a moment, he lead his sisters up the steps and slowly pushed open the heavy wooden door._

"… _Hello?" He called. There was no reply, but the church was slightly warmer then outside, and protected them from the wind. He pulled the girls forwards, down the aisle and around to the pulpit, which he bundled them under, squeezing in after them. Squashed together like this and exhausted, the children fell into a deep sleep._

_The next morning brought forwards weak, pale sunlight, and Ivan awoke without his sisters, in a bed. The sheets were rough and the mattress was thin, but it was warm and more comfortable than anything Ivan could remember._

_The children had been found by a priest when he came to pray early in the morning, and had been taken to his home, where he fed them and warmed them. He spoke to the three children, getting very little out of them save for their names. Ivan wouldn't talk to him at all; his lips remained firmly shut, despite his older sister reminding him to thank the priest for meals. The priest kept the children with him for a week, caring for them and rebuilding their strength. Eventually though, with a heavy heart, but knowing that he couldn't do much more for them, he phoned the closest orphanage and, that afternoon, took the three children up in his car and left them each with a small packet of sweets and a gift; a ribbon for Natalya, a small rag doll for Katyusha, and a great, heavy old overcoat for Ivan. The violet eyed boy took it, the faint inklings of wonder and awe flickering behind his blank eyes._

"_This is a very old coat." The priest told him. "It belonged to my grandfather. I hate it; it's full of memories of war and hate. It's warm though. Take it, my son, and remember that even in the longest, darkest and coldest of nights, there will always be a place for you."_

_Ivan immediately shrugged into it; it was far too big for him, and pooled around his feet. The priest smiled, ruffled the boy's hair, and straightened._

"_Goodbye, my children. God bless." He bid them farewell and turned away, leaving them with the orphanage Mistress and making his way towards his car. A small voice stopped him halfway down the path, though._

"_Thank you…" Ivan whispered._

_Ivan sat patiently through his sister's lecture as she cleaned up her thirteen year old brother, smiling benignly at her exasperated voice._

"_You shouldn't fight." She chided. "Especially not with the village boys."_

"_Why not?" Ivan asked. "They started it. They made fun of Natalya."_

_Katyusha clicked her tongue._

"_They were only teasing. It's what boys do; they like her really."_

_Ivan's face turned briefly dark and fierce, before returning to his typical entertained smile._

"_That's stupid." He replied. "If you like someone, you tell them, right?" This concept confused him. Was Katyusha telling him it was okay to hurt the people you love? He ignored his sister for the rest of her lecture, deep in thought._

_Ivan clicked his briefcase closed, patting the side carefully. He smiled to himself._

"_I'm leaving." He called to the rest of the house, putting on his overcoat, which he had started to grow into, and scarf despite the sweltering American sun outside the front door. Natalya thundered down the stairs, throwing herself off half-way down._

"_No!" She screeched. "You can't! You can't make me go to that horrible place!"_

"_Miss Natalya!" The servant Toris hurried down the stairs after the girl. "Miss, please, you must! You have to go to school!"_

"_I refuse!" Natalya screeched, slipping into fast paced Russian, burying her face into Ivan's chest. Ivan patted her head._

"_You have to." He told her quietly. "Mr Winter said-"_

"_I don't care!" Natalya interrupted. "I hate Mr Winter! I hate him, he should go die!" Toris started to reach out, but paused when Ivan smiled at him. At the top of the stairs, Katyusha sighed._

"_Natalya…" She pleaded, slipping down to comfort her sister. "I'm coming too; and Mr Winter has done a lot of us, we have to be appreciative…"_

"_I want to stay with Ivan!" Natalya shrieked. "I want to stay with big brother!"_

_Ivan gently pulled Natalya away and smiled; it didn't reach his eyes, though, which hardened disapprovingly._

"_Natalya;" He started. "Mr Winters' has done a lot for us; he adopted us and even took in and helped Katyusha even though she was already living on her own. He brought us to America and gave us a home, and now he's paying for you and Katyusha to go to a private boarding school; It won't be for very long, and then you can come and see me whenever you want."  
Natalya buried her face into Ivan's scarf and sniffled._

"_Promise?"_

"Da._" Ivan replied, pulling away. "I've got to go now; I'm doing a job for Mr Winter's. I'll see you later." Giving his sister's one last hug each, he turned away and left._

"_It was nice doing business with you." Ivan smiled, passing over the money and grabbing the rucksack before his 'business partners' could change their minds. Not that they would; Ivan had grown up well, and now towered over most men. His overcoat, which he still treasured fiercely, had been let out and adjusted so often, sometimes Ivan was worried that it wasn't the same anymore._

_The man across the table was tall, almost as tall as Ivan, with brown curly hair and a stubble. His temples were flecked with grey._

"_Tell your father that Julius Vargas says hi." Julius told him, standing up and shaking Ivan's hand. "We're looking forward to working with you in the future. Next time I'll bring my grandson too, I'm sure you and Lovino will have a long working future ahead of you."_

_Ivan smiled widely. _

"Da_, I hope so. I hope to meet you again soon."_

_Ivan didn't wait around. He knew Julius' type; by the time Ivan got to his car Julius would be leaving the building and making his way to his no-doubt privately owned jet. By the time he was half-way home Julius would be back in Italy._

_As he drove, Ivan hummed. Life had been surprisingly good for him and his sisters; Katyusha was now a teacher at the all girl's boarding school she and Natalya had attended, Natalya now being in her last year. Occasionally Ivan could pop in to see them during one of his trips across the country for Mr Winters, who paid good money and for all of Ivan's living expenses._

_Ivan's musings were interrupted several hours later when a body threw itself onto the hood of his car; the surprising force of the impact caused Ivan to lose control, landing in a ditch and totalling his car. Pushing the airbag out his face, the Russian leant out of his car window, frowning. Behind the car, the man he'd run over staggered back to his feet and moaned. Raising an eyebrow, Ivan looked back at the rucksack of weapon's he'd picked up._

Alfred stared open-mouthed at Ivan when he'd finished his story.

"… You told us you picked up those weapons from an abandoned military base…" The American said eventually. Ivan shrugged.

"_Da_. That was a lie."

"Right, of course. Anything else you lied about? Any truths you want to put out there?" Alfred snapped, shaking with anger. Ivan frowned.

"I don't know why you're getting angry." He said. "I didn't know you, of course I lied. There's no point getting annoyed."

Alfred's face twitched.

"You know what, you're right! There's no point, no _fucking _point whatsoever!" He slammed out of the room, Ivan frowning after him. Ian cleared his throat.

"So that's two mafia members in Artie's little group." He muttered. "What next, is Kiku part of the Yakuza or something?"

Polishing his Katana, Kiku merely smiled mysteriously. The four Kirkland brother's exchanged glances and shivered.

**A note from ME! **Who can spot the glaringly obvious Easter egg? ^^ see ya next chapter guys!


	12. They Explore

**Chapter 12**

**They Explore**

Francis and Arthur looked around when the stairwell door was slammed open and Alfred stormed onto the roof of the apartment building, fuming. Arthur glanced at Francis and pulled away, blushing.

"Everything alright?" He asked. Alfred scowled.

"No, everything isn't fucking alright!" He snarled. Arthur frowned but before he could get into an argument, Francis stepped in.

"What happened?" Francis gave Arthur a warning nudge as he spoke. Alfred flopped down on the side next to Arthur and groaned.

"That fucking Commie…" He muttered. Arthur snorted.

"You realise at Ivan isn't actually communist, right?" Alfred cleared his throat.

"Of course, I'm not stupid." The American defended, running his hand through his hair. Ignoring Arthur's muttered "Negotiable" Alfred leant back, letting his legs dangle as he lay down on the roof.

"… Ivan was an arms dealer." He muttered eventually. Arthur hummed.

"Nice to see you've finally realized." He replied. Alfred shot up, and he and Francis stared at Arthur.

"You _knew_?" Francis asked, astonished. "How did you figure it out? And _when_?"

Arthur clicked his tongue.

"Really? He said he got the weapons from an _abandoned military base_. How many abandoned military bases do you think are just hanging around in the middle of the American landscape?" Alfred paused, thinking about it. Now that Arthur was saying it in such a matter-of-fact tone he was starting to feel stupid for not seeing it himself.

"Anyway, why should this bother you?" Arthur added, clambering to his feet and stretching. Francis grabbed his hand, using the younger man to pull himself to his feet, ignoring the Englishman's muttered, half-hearted insults and protests. Alfred frowned, lying back and staring up at the darkening sky.

"… I dunno." He muttered. "It just does. We've been trusting him with our lives, and he's been lying to us this entire time!"

Arthur and Francis glanced at each other, a silent argument raging between them. Eventually Arthur growled in defeat and sat back down, while Francis slipped back inside.

"Look at it from Ivan's point of view." Arthur murmured. "The world is going to hell, his sisters are on the other side of the country, he's got no idea what's going on or how to stop it, and he meets a group of people. They're strong and prepared for anything that can happen, and Ivan thinks "Safety in numbers." However, he doesn't know them, and they don't know him. All he knows is that he's got a rucksack full of illegally acquired weapons, and the discovery of their origins could result in him being left alone and vulnerable again.

"What would _you _have done in that situation?"

Alfred didn't reply, running over the words in his head.

"… I think that's the most I've ever heard you say." He stated eventually. Arthur clicked his tongue, tutting at the younger man in irritation.

"Tell me, do you _ever _actually listen to what other people tell you, or have you spent your entire life oblivious to the existence of anyone other than yourself?"

"No, I was listening." Alfred murmured. "I'm thinking."

"Well, I suppose there's a first for everything." Arthur snapped back. Alfred grinned at the wheat-blonde man, chuckling to himself.

"Are you sure you're the youngest out of your brothers?" He asked. "You'd make a good older brother."

Arthur flushed at the praise and looked away.

"Idiot." He muttered. "I'm only here because if you and Ivan fell out it'd be awkward for me, got it? I just don't want to have to deal with your problems."

Alfred hummed, pretending to acknowledge Arthur's half-hearted lie, and sat up.

"Cheers, Artie." Alfred grinned, climbing to his feet and patting Arthur's head. The Englishman spluttered and snapped at him.

"Don't call me Artie!" He growled as the taller man made his way to the stairwell, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Ivan tilted his head to look around the small tower of plates Feliciano had shoved into his arms upon the Russian's arrival in the kitchen.

The attached dining room sported a large, fold out table, which the smaller man was pulling out with difficulty. Before Ivan could put down the plates, however, Feliciano gave a cry of victory, and the table slid open and slotted into place.

"Done~" He sung, and started grabbing plates off of Ivan, lying them out, counting off the different members of the growing group as he did so.

"Me, Ludwig, Kiku, Yao, Angelique, Monique, Francis, Arthur~" He paused, frowning at the table, before pushing the plates closer together, trying to make more room. "Aled, Ian, Peter, Saun, Patrick, Matthew, Gilbert, Alfred and you!" He took a step back, placing his hands on his hips. "Done!"

Ivan stared at the table, where eighteen places were haphazardly set onto a table that would have usually held six people. Feliciano had insisted from the very beginning that every meal was to be eaten as a group, but Ivan was starting to doubt the wisdom of this meal plan.

"We could set out another table, da?" He asked. "There's not much room…"

Feliciano frowned.

"Si." He muttered, pouting.

"That should be fairly easy…" Ivan turned at the voice, and smiled. Alfred hovered in the doorway, looking slightly nervous and avoiding Ivan's eyes. "We could just grab one from another apartment."

"Da." Ivan agreed. "Me and Alfred will go, da? And you stay here." He told Feliciano. "We'll be back soon."

Alfred turned away, leaving the room. Ivan followed him closely as they left the apartment into the hallway.

The two men were quiet as they climbed the stairs, partially out of the lack of anything to say, but mostly because Francis' infection was still fresh in their minds; the infected could be in the building with them. There could be one behind every door.

Alfred cocked his gun as they paused at the first door, levelling it at head height. After a pause in which Ivan counted off on his fingers, the Russian broke the lock and swung the door open.

Alfred's finger trembled on the trigger, but after several long minutes passed and nothing leapt out of the dark, the men relaxed. Ivan stepped in and groped at the wall, looking for the light switch.

They had little luck inside the apartment, and several after that; most of the kitchens sported breakfast bars for their occupants. Most apartments were safe. Only once did Alfred have to gun down a zombie which leapt out of the apartment, hands bent unnaturally into dull claws, aiming at Ivan's throat. If the American shot it one times too many, Ivan didn't mention it. Instead, he kicked the twitching body out of the way and withdrew his own gun.

Alfred sprinted out of the apartment, bent over double, and threw up. Ivan followed at a slower pace, looking grim, and placed one large hand on the blonde's back as Alfred heaved.

"That's disgusting…" Alfred growled. From the open door of the apartment, the scent of rotting flesh reached their noses, and Alfred gagged. Ivan's nose twitched in distaste.

"_Da_." He muttered. Alfred moaned in response, clutching his stomach. Ivan pulled away and carefully made his way back into the apartment.

The Zombie inside snapped and snarled at him, pulling against its restraints that chained it to the floor by a collar around it's throat. Ivan circled the undead, staying just out of its small circle of freedom, and made his way to the kitchen table.

Wide, dead eyes stared up at him, the mouth open in a silent scream. The girl, no more than ten years old, was nailed by her hands and feet to the top of the table, a stake placed through her throat. She was clothed in a plain white dress. Ivan swallowed. With her long blonde hair and violet eyes, she looked like Natalya…

He reached down, cupping her cold cheek before closing her eyes.

Ivan turned away, but paused when his foot landed and paper crinkled underneath it.

The book that was laid, abandoned, on the floor was old and bound in leather; the paper was yellowed, the ink faded. Ivan flicked through the book and frowned at the diagrams; gruesome scenes depicting rituals, young woman dressed in long robes, pierced by nails, stakes, knives…

Ivan snapped the book shut. He'd have to show it to Arthur later on to get his opinion on it.

For now…

Ivan glanced out through the door at Alfred, who was still nursing his stomach, moaning and groaning over his own bile. Turning back to the Zombie, he cocked his gun and aimed.


End file.
